


Oh Star, Fall Down On Me

by Xekstrin



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3391601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xekstrin/pseuds/Xekstrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If she had things her own way, Weiss would have lived the next four years in isolation. Her parents helped her out by allowing her to dorm alone, but even so, she gets her bubble unexpectedly burst by her most enigmatic team mate. (AU Where everything is the same but Weiss has her own room).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Oh Star, fall down on me_  
_Let me make a wish upon you_  
_Hold on, let me think_  
_Think of what I'm wishing for:_  
  
[Wait, don't go away...](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d3QkMAbofkI)

 

* * *

 

Someone knocked on the door.

For a while Weiss convinced herself it had been her overactive imagination playing on fruitless hopes. Even if she no longer lived under her father's roof, there was little hope things would change. What a privilege to room alone, to not bother with any bunk mates. What an honor to receive a solitary room, with just enough space for her material possessions and little else.

Sterile white walls.

She entertained the idea of putting up posters. (Of what?) Art, then? (As if you didn't stick out already.) Making her bed, she tugged on the corners of the sheet the wrong way and had to do it again. Servants usually did this task for her. Outside of combat and crunching numbers and a slew of memorized facts about the proper combination and application of crystals and Dust, she had no basic knowledge or skills. But that wouldn't stop her. No, not at all. She came here to become a warrior, after all, not make friends.

"…damn," she said under her breath. Crumpling onto her freshly made bed, she cradled her head in her hands and bent over, breathing in through her nose and slowly exhaling through slightly parted lips.

 _Lots of kids wished they had this much privacy! You'll get used to it_ , he had told her, and that was true enough. People could get used to anything. Like living in constant fear of the monsters that prowled outside the city walls, or the way the walls fell more and more each year, or how little anyone ever actually spoke to her on a day to day basis.

Her first week had not gone well.

She didn't really expect it to, but reality proved even more harrowing than she'd feared.

Someone knocked on the door, again.

It startled her into motion, realizing that no, she hadn't imagined it. With both herself and her unpacked room in no state to be entertaining guests, she nevertheless opened it wide, standing straight at attention to greet whomever had come calling with proper Schnee hospitality.

What little hope she had got dashed against the concrete walls when she found _that girl_ was the only one waiting on the other side. The one with the golden yellow eyes and the smart mouth. Hands buried deep in her black pullover hoodie, she peered out from under its cover, unblinking and solemn.

Blake. That was her name. Outside of their assignment together as team mates, Weiss hardly interacted with anyone in team RWBY outside Ruby herself. She'd made it clear that she wasn't in any mood to forgive Blake for their sour first impression of each other, and didn't intend to start now.

Shifting uncomfortably and crossing her arms, Weiss blocked the doorway, leaning against the frame and staring her down. "What," she asked, clipped, "Do you want?"

"Uh."

The other girl shuffled her feet. She broke their gaze first, glancing about.

"…Hi," she said after a good thirty seconds chewing over her words. "Weiss."

"Hello," Weiss responded with as much warmth as a polar cap. "If you're here to apologize for the mud you tried to smear all over my family's name earlier this week, I'll have you know it'll take a lot more than words."

Sharp focus snapped into her strange gold eyes. "Your family smears its own name well enough."

It pricked, and burned, and spread. Verbal abuse and criticism she could handle; this was something else. Without a word she stepped back to slam the door shut, but the girl moved in to her personal space, slapping an open palm against the door to hold it open. Her other hand emerged from the depths of her hoodie pocket at the same time. Pulling out handful of glossy photos, she held them up at eye level.

They were photos of Weiss. Sword in hand, blood streaming down her face. Rapier fully equipped with Dust. Her illicit fencing lessons, her attempts to brave the creatures outside the walls. The reason she really got shuffled off to Beacon— better to have it seem like her parents were behind her decision rather than admit perfect little Weiss Schnee had an adrenaline addiction and a deep-seated desire to rebel.

"I heard," Blake said, pushing in further and shutting the door behind her. "That you like to break things."

Stunned, Weiss could only snatch the photos away. Blake didn't resist; Weiss cursed herself. Of course these couldn't be the only copies of the photos in existence. Hell, the other girl probably still had all the negatives safely locked away.

"What do you want?" she asked, ripping the entire stack of photos in half with one smooth motion. "Money? Dust? Is this how things are going to be, then, am I going to be blackmailed by some faunus loving mongrel?"

"Racial slurs. Nice."

"Get over it. I'm not an idiot," Weiss motioned around her, trying desperately to keep a lid on how high pitched her voice was becoming. "And I'm not… not done unpacking." Somehow that made this all worse. An organized room was an organized mind, that's what her parents told her. "As you can see. I'm busy. Name your price and leave."

Pulling her hood down, Blake's lips turned in a frown. Her feet shifted again. "I was… actually kind of hoping we could swap notes."

Weiss stared blankly at her.

That seemed to tickle her, because she cracked a smile. A small thing; Weiss later wondered if she'd imagined it. "Keep your enemies close, right?" she suggested. "You're right about one thing— you're not an idiot. And you're talented, more so than anyone else I've seen at this school so far. So uh." A card appeared from her hoodie pocket. "Give me a call if you want. It's no skin off my back if you can't or won't. I'm simply giving you the option. And we're technically team mates now, so maybe we should start acting like it."

She hovered there for a second, looking on the verge of saying something else, but then turned abruptly and left as quick as she'd entered.

 

* * *

 

She'd never had a friend before, so she couldn't say if Blake became one in the weeks that followed, but she liked to pretend sometimes that this was the case. Taciturn, but not solemn as she first appeared, Blake spoke only when necessary. Stripped of most of her agency for too much of her life, Weiss had the opposite problem. She was a chatterbox, and she spoke her mind loudly and often. Generally with a hint of disdain, to make sure everyone around her knew their place. It was a defense mechanism. She tried not to look too deeply into it.

And they did swap notes. A lot. Though they subscribed to different schools of sword play, they had a lot in common, more than first suspected. Through her, Weiss also started getting closer to Yang, which put her in even better standing with Ruby. The red head looked at their growing relationship with pride; since Blake was her room mate, Weiss her partner, and Yang her sister, it all felt like things were finally falling into place.

Things shifted into even stranger territory one night, though. They sat in Weiss' empty, lonely room, nose buried in borrowed textbooks. The walls still bare of any adornments, she kept the place as meticulously organized as her room back home. They hadn't exchanged many words that night, so Weiss flinched in shock when Blake casually reached over, brushed her finger tip against Weiss' scar, and asked, "So how'd you get this one?"

Jerking away as if she'd been burned, Weiss turned on her bed, pointedly facing away from Blake. The mark that marred her face zinged with old pain, phantom aches. "Accident."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." She sniffed, turning her nose up and trying to seem like she was still firmly entrenched in her lesson, but too much of her brain was busy scrambling around for something to say. "Go on, say it. It's gross. Something for a pretty girl like you to feel superior about."

Amused, Blake set her book down. "You think I'm pretty." It wasn't a question.

"I think you're a sad little introvert who occasionally needs a bone thrown her way."

"So generous."

Waiting to hear something more, Weiss wondered if the conversation was over when Blake stood up. A strange sensation nagged at the back of her head, making her set her book down and glance over to see the other girl casually unbuttoning her vest. That wasn't so strange, until she criss crossed her arms and pulled up the hem of her shirt, yanking it over her head and shaking her hair free from it.

Starting and standing up, Weiss forgot herself and grasped Blake's hands, stopping her from going any further. "Hey!" she said, keeping a tight grip on her wrists. "W-what's your malfunction?"

Eyebrows furrowing, Blake looked down at their hands, twisting them loose. "I'm just showing you something," she said, looking as comfortable in just her bra and pants as she had fully clothed. Turning around, she unhooked her bra, but didn't take it off. It wasn't necessary.

All along her back, cruel, poorly healed scars and welts stood out, stark red against her milky white skin.

"I'm not asking for a pity party or anything," Blake said, arms crossed to keep her bra in place. "I'm giving you a bit of a reality check. That little cut on your forehead can barely be called a scar, so don't get too hung up over it." She glanced over her shoulder. "Okay?"

Weiss held her.

 

* * *

 

They didn't talk about it, but then again, they rarely talked about the things close to their hearts. That's not to say they didn't have serious, deep discussions— just none that involved how Blake started stripping in her room one day and Weiss had a few minor existential crises over her family's practice of business.

And, you know, Weiss never had any friends before Blake, but the more time they spent together the less sure she felt calling her that. And so it wasn't strange when one day, while she and Blake lay exhausted on the padded floor of their sparring area, Weiss reached over and held her hand. Their instructor yelled at them for their lack of focus. Afterwards neither of them could really recall what their lesson that day had been.

Feelings like this never turned out well. Hadn't Weiss seen enough of that from her parent's stone cold farce of a marriage, before her mother left? Feelings like this got messy. And uncomfortably warm. And maybe a little wet.

No! Wait. Wet was bad. Wet was very, very bad.

Weiss pulled on her collar, swallowing nervously. "I'm sorry, Blake. What did you just say? I'm afraid I misheard you."

"You heard me right the first time. Sorry if it made you uncomfortable."

Pulling out a fan from the pouch tied to the back of her belt, Weiss flicked it open and tried to do something about the state of her bright red face. "Of course I'm uncomfortable. It's July and hotter than Satan's jagged, cloven hoof."

In an easy, graceful motion, Blake tossed her chain scythe over a nearby tree branch and twisted one foot around the ribbon, balancing on it and swinging back and forth. The spires of Beacon peeked over the canopy in the distance. "I'm just saying, if you feel the same way, maybe we should kiss." There was something childlike and innocent about the way she said it, though maybe that was just because she was hanging from a deadly weapon like it was a tire swing.

"Are we forgetting your long-standing grudge against my company?"

"Your parent's company."

"Whatever." She clicked the fan shut to whack the small of Blake's back with it once before resuming. "I'm not playing into your hatesturbation fantasies about being in bed with the enemy. You and I have an arrangement; we are team mates, nothing more."

Blake's small lips twisted in a frown. Looking everywhere but at her mouth, Weiss fanned herself harder, wishing she hadn't agreed to go out with her today. Private training, yeah right.

"Yeah?" Blake said, quietly. And with a flair of her wrist, a painfully familiar notebook appeared in her hands. "So this is nothing, I guess."

Weiss lunged for it, but not fast enough. Scampering up her ribbon, Blake hopped into the trees and made it look easy. Lounging on a thick branch, she flipped open the book to a seemingly random page as Weiss shrieked obscenities at her from below. " _I had another dream about her_ ," Blake said, reading out loud. " _Except this time she kept on taking off her clothes. I still can't believe that happened, it was so surreal. And her back muscles—_  hey!"

Latching onto her ankle, Weiss tried to pull her down. "I will burn you to a  _crisp_ —"

"I'm not done reading."

"Yes, you are! Give me my journal back!"

Slipping free and climbing higher, Blake hung just above Weiss' head by her knees, feeing at home in the foliage. "I think it's cute that you have a diary," she said. "It also confirms the fact that you're easy to black mail. Try not to leave such an obvious paper trail, rich girl." Before Weiss could do serious damage, she tossed the book at her as a distraction and slithered gracefully away. Weiss juggled it for a bit before getting a solid grip. By the time her feet found solid ground, Blake had vanished into thin air.

 

* * *

 

"I'm not comfortable with this," Blake said, point blank. It was a little hard to take her seriously, though, when her hand was already half way down Weiss' pants. Still, her parents had raised a lady, not a brute, so Weiss froze as she tried to unbutton and unfasten the last of Blake's clothing.

"Then… let's stop?" she suggested, pulling away only to have Blake chase her with a few ill-aimed kisses, leaning forward to pin her down against her bed. Her parents had been right; a private room was a blessing, though not for the reasons they probably assumed. "Ok, let's not stop? Make up your mind, or I'll do it for you and kick you out onto the street naked and horny."

Setting her face in a fixed scowl, she didn't let herself slip when Blake tried kissing it away. Biting her chin when she wouldn't budge, Blake growled. "Your hands," she said, catching them with her own and locking their fingers together. "I want them where I can see them. You keep touching me, and it's nice, but a little weird. I don't like surprises."

If Weiss rolled her eyes any harder they were liable to keep on rolling right out of her skull. Then she remembered the scars, and sobered up at once. "All right," she agreed, softening a little to smooth back her thick, black hair. Blake seemed comfortable with that, at least. "But am I just going to lie here like a log while you ravish me?"

"No." The clock on her bedside table ticked, ticked, ticked. "…Maybe? I just want to see what you're hiding." She bumped heads affectionately. "No Schnee shenanigans lurking under your skirt."

"I'm scared to know where, exactly, you think such schemes will be lurking. But here." Sitting up, she popped open the buttons on her shirt, stripping down. "I'll make it easy. See any shivs hidden in my bra strap? No?" Taking Blake's hand, she held it against her breast, enjoying the way it made her cheeks redden. "Feel any grenades? Try the other one. No, still?"

"You're teasing me," Blake said through grit teeth.

"Hmm, a little." Reclining back, Weiss blew a strand of white hair out of her face. "But I'm not sure how else to do this. Or how to make this okay. So I want to stop here if that's all right with you, until we come up with something that'll make this less scary or awkward or whatever is ailing you."

She hadn't even noticed how tense Blake was until she relaxed.

She didn't even think to question the bow on her head, or why she refused to take it off.

 

* * *

 

"No," Weiss said at once.

"It's only—"

" _No_." She ran her fingers through her hair, loose and slightly damp from a shower. "I'm not into that kinky stuff. If you're trying to butter me up for some freaky 50 Shades of Blake nonsense, you can just forget it."

Letting the cool steel cuffs clink in her hands, Blake worried the latch with her thumb. "It's just handcuffs. What, did you want fuzzy pink ones?" She tossed them aside, shrugging loosely.

"Maybe." Catching herself, Weiss shot her a poisonous glare. Rummaging around Blake's room for a comb, she eased it through her fine hair, perched on the edge of the other girl's bed. "Consider yourself lucky I'm too tired to go back to my room. And I need a cuddle buddy tonight."

Setting down next to her, Blake touched the small of her back, an unexpectedly intimate action. "Did your father call today?" she guessed.

"Wow, great deductions, Holmes!" Weiss said, feigning excitement. "And yet the fact that I ran in here crying, and wouldn't stop my inconsolable weeping until I scalded myself red as a lobster in your shower— you shouldn't use such cheap shampoo, by the way— didn't stop you from propositioning me like a second class hooker." Pausing for a breather, Weiss thought about it. "Must be the boots. And the fact that our peppy red head is bunking with her sister tonight. Opportunistic little mongrel, aren't you?"

Blake retracted her hand. "I thought you'd laugh," she said. "Worst case scenario."

Turning her bloodshot gaze over onto her semi-friend, Weiss smiled thinly. "And the best case scenario?"

"I get to make you feel better."

Stroking through her hair a few more times, Weiss stayed quiet. She leaned towards Blake, relaxing against her, inch by inch. Putting the comb aside, Weiss hooked her arms underneath Blake's, squeezing her tight. "Is that really what you want?" Weiss asked, voice cracking a little, but not breaking. Nodding quickly, Blake's throat bobbed as Weiss kissed her neck, careful to only suck under her hem, or where it would be easy to hide. She was a proper girl, after all.

Everyone had an ulterior motive with her. Friendship rarely came without any strings attached. But with Blake, she could pretend that maybe, this time, someone just wanted her to be happy without expecting anything in return.

But when her hands slid underneath Blake's nightgown, groping at her breasts, the other girl stiffened up again, instinctively going for Weiss's throat. She held it but didn't squeeze, eyes wide with fear as she said, "Weiss,  _hands_!"

Inching her thumbs into Blake's grip and prying her free, Weiss sat back. "Christ's sake, Belladonna! What am I supposed to do? I don't want to hurt you. I just want to touch you." A dark cloud passed over her features as she scowled, pinching the bridge of her nose and breathing as even as she could. Eyes focused on something else, Weiss's expression looked the same as when puzzling out a difficult math problem in class, before finally lighting up with the answer.

Leaning in again, she kissed Blake hard, nipping at her lower lip before kissing each of her cheeks. She kept her fists balled up at her sides as she angled lower. "Take off your own stupid clothes, Belladonna," she said against her ear before pulling on it with her teeth. Turning red but nodding, Blake did as she said, pulling her night gown over her head in a quick motion.

Weiss paused to look at her, how she sat there without shame. She half expected her to modestly cross her arms, but Blake just looked at her with expectation. Wondering if she was really going to go through with this all the way, Weiss threw caution to the wind and carefully kissed down the sharp line of Blake's collarbone. All the while she kept her hands either at her side, or flat on the mattress when she told Blake to lie down. The only time she touched her was to slap away her hand when Blake tentatively tried to stroke the top of her head.

"If I don't get to touch you, you don't get to touch me," she said primly, tossing her hair over her shoulder and narrowing her eyes up at Blake.

"That's not fair," she said quietly.

"It's perfectly fair. Besides, you're always nervous when I touch you, but since I'm  _soooo_  nice, I'll let you do whatever you want once I'm done here." To punctuate her sentence, she chomped down on Blake's hip, leaving a faint indentation there that could be seen when Blake flinched.

" _Jerk_!" she gasped, angling her hips away, but she didn't ask her to stop, which was more progress than they had gotten before.

And she kept her hands still.

"Underwear," Weiss said in response.

Blake did that too. Showing a hint of shame for the first time, she averted her eyes, keeping her knees pressed too close for Weiss to do anything. Or see anything, for that matter. Her first instinct was to pry them apart, but she had promised not to touch her. "All right," Weiss said after a moment, kissing the top of each knee. "With this current position, given the placement of the planets and the stars, and the tilt of the Earth's axis in orbit, I can, hmmm, I can do absolutely fuck-all without my hands here."

"No one said you had to do anything," Blake snapped, turning on her side. "And since when does Princess swear?"

Lying on top of her, Weiss flopped with her arms outstretched so that her hands didn't land anywhere on Blake's body. "When I'm incredibly frustrated and I don't know how to ask my girlfriend to open up her legs without sounding like— like someone I'm not."

Yellow eyes studied her, unblinking.

Smiling thinly again, Weiss pressed her forehead against Blake's. "…Touch yourself," she said after a moment, breaking their rule and holding her hand. "If you don't want me to do it. I'll just hold you."

Though she hesitated at first, after a moment Blake took Weiss's hand and carefully led it between her legs. Weiss cupped her hand, just following her movements until Blake started using her fingers instead of her own. Her other arm looped around Blake's neck, gripping the back of her head. She kept her full weight off of the other girl's body until Blake started pulling her down, hips arching up against her as her breathing started to hitch. She was careful not to do anything unexpected with her fingers, letting Blake guide her and keeping her eyes closed like she usually did when they kissed. But when she creaked one eyelid open to catch a glimpse of her, she found Blake staring at her, strange yellow eyes wide and intense. It sent a jolt down her spine, a rush of excitement. Blake seemed to feel it too, groaning into her mouth the next time she kissed her.

She allowed Blake to position her fingers the right way, trying to stay limp enough that Blake could give her direction without talking, but still firm enough that she could feel like an active participant in this. It felt good to be allowed to please her, touch wet folds and warm depths. "Weiss—" She twisted underneath her, one hand still using her to pleasure herself, the other tangled in her hair. Hearing her own name, hearing someone call out to her, fulfilled her in a deep, soothing way that she couldn't yet define. "Could you— Do you still want to— go down on me?" A gasp.

Her first instinct was to say something snappy,  _oh, nowwww you want it, huh?_ but she was too far gone herself to even be snarky. "Yeah." She cleared her throat. "Yes, sure." It was frustrating to still not be able to run her fingers over Blake's skin the way she wanted, to feel her pulse, to grab and hold and pinch. But Blake trusted her not to do that, and the idea of letting her down now was almost impossibly devastating.

This time Weiss didn't need any help. Blake's thighs, streaked with wetness from when Weiss had wiped her fingers across them, clenched tight around her neck. Not one to go into a battle unprepared, Weiss had done her best to look up and read whatever she could about how to have sex. Spreading Blake open with her tongue, she reminded herself about how what worked in theory didn't always translate well in practice, and allowed herself to admit she was terrified. One half of her busied itself with a diplomatic way of getting out of this if it turned out she was terrible at oral sex, or if Blake's vagina tasted ten times grosser than her own, for some reason. And yes, she had tried herself, on lonely nights when curiosity overcame her and, well, it would be unhygienic to just clean her hands on her sheets and go to bed wouldn't it?

The other half of her mind was too busy focusing on Blake. Listening to her breathing getting heavier. Seeing the sweat shine on her body. The faint white lines of scars Weiss hadn't noticed before, popping out on stretched skin as she arched and whined, both hands on Weiss's head and pushing her closer without a word. "Is this, em, is this okay?" she asked a few more times than necessary, making Blake  _laugh_ once. Ready to leave in a huff at first, she accepted the fact that Blake's laughter was not easily won, and couldn't deny that hearing how it petered off into a trembling sigh made her chest hurt. In a good way.

She had a deep voice. It rumbled and hummed, peaking high and fragile when she came, surprising Weiss enough that she stopped sooner than she should have to watch Blake bring her fist to her mouth, biting down most of the noises that threatened to escape. Then her hand opened, spreading out to cover her face as she caught her breath, chest heaving. She twitched, each time bringing her hand back to her mouth to try and catch it, but she was always too late, and Weiss loved it.

Wiping her lips off on her sleeve, Weiss grinned, proud of a job well done. "Was that… okay?" she asked, lying down beside her to twirl a thick black strand of hair around her index finger, biting her shoulder impatiently when Blake took too long to answer.

Blake turned towards her, nuzzling her, full of warm affection and hazy bliss. "You're sweet," she said, head tucked under hers. Weiss braced for impact, for the expected zing afterwards, some snippy last remark. But it didn't come, no sarcasm. Just Blake, genuinely saying something kind to her.

Pecking her forehead, Weiss desperately searched for some kind of response. "Th…thanks," she said, kissing her again to stall for time. "You're uh, you're also. You're kind of nice."

"Kind of—  _Kind_ of? You—" Blake blew a raspberry against her throat, and it snapped whatever tension might have lingered in the air. They both started laughing wildly, at their own incompetence, at the absurdity of their relationship, at how much fun they had just had, even if they were still a pair of awkward introverts. It was too soon to put a name to the ache in her chest, and no explaining how much she longed for it, but Weiss never wanted it to abate.


	2. Chapter 2

They weren't often physically affectionate. Even if they hadn't been withdrawn people to begin with, they wanted to keep things on the down low for now. Relationships, even ones built on mutual trust and respect, had a way of burning out at their age. Wise enough to know it and young enough to plow ahead anyway, they danced around telling their team mates the whole truth. If there was any fallout, they wanted to keep the radius of destruction to an absolute minimum.

But as much as Weiss struggled against it, things seemed to be heading in that direction.

Just learning how to even  _talk_  to Blake had been a challenge, one she rolled up her sleeves and tackled with grim, almost Sisyphean determination. Every time she got too close, Blake threw up a thick, cold wall that sent her stumbling backwards back to square one. Angered, frustrated, and confused, she nevertheless kept at it out of spite, and pride, and something else. Something bright and frightening, close to her chest, that only bloomed on those rare days when Blake smiled at her.

But she was running out of steam. She didn't wake up anymore on the mornings after she and Blake made love, patting the space on the mattress next to her. She already knew it would be empty.

The first time it happened— the first time she'd fallen asleep with Blake's arms wrapped around her only to wake up abandoned— she'd been ready to burn down the school. Instead of scraping and groveling, Blake had coolly asked her to tone it down. She took her hand, and Weiss hated how much the simple contact mollified her. Sick of scraps as she was, her hunger for affection ran even deeper.

Though she tried not to be, she was wildly jealous of Blake's partnership with Yang. The fact that Blake and Ruby were room mates. The easy conversations they had about stories and weapons as Weiss listened, leaning against Ruby with her head resting on her partner's shoulder. She was being selfish, she knew, and possessive, but the more Blake pulled away, the more savagely she held on.

Blake had been talking to her less and less, creating emotional distance to stack on top of the lack of physical contact. She couldn't even remember the last fleeting, quick peck to the lips Blake had given her, the one that tasted like an obligation. They never held hands, not even in private, not anymore.

How much of her clinginess was her wanting to hold onto Blake, and how much was just her inability to accept a defeat with any amount of grace? Maybe it was time to end things. Quick and clean, a single cut to be bandaged later. But the weeks rolled by, and things didn't get any better, and the last of the leaves had fallen from the treetops by the time Blake came to do it herself.

Half her room was already packed up, the rest already stored in Ruby's room, since her partner wasn't going to be leaving during the winter break like Weiss. Yang had already swung by to give her a bone crushing hug, apologizing that she had cleanup duty in the Emerald Forest in the morning and wouldn't be around to see Weiss off. Pulling out the chair to her desk, she swung one leg over it and sat in it backwards, chin propped on the back rest. She rattled on about her duties as one of the few students staying behind for the break, about her plans to maybe visit a club tonight and would Weiss like to come? No? Oh well your loss.

Shooting the breeze for an hour as Weiss packed and fussed over her travel gear, Yang's sudden silence made Weiss look up to see Yang staring at the open doorway. Following her line of sight, Weiss' heart dropped like a stone to see Blake standing there. Weiss was still on her knees, her bag half unpacked before her, Yang awkwardly hovering around in the background.

On some level, she knew.

Yang excused herself too quick to fool Weiss; Blake must have told her. Trying to keep herself busy with plots of revenge on her, Weiss didn't react when Blake quietly shut the door behind Yang. She stood with her back to the door, leaning against it slightly, and watched Weiss without a word.

"Come to say good bye?" Weiss said after a while, lightly. Too lightly.

"Yes. But I can't stay for long."

"You rarely do."

Blake's expression twitched at that, averting her gaze. "I know we're team mates, and friends, and I hope we stay that way," she began, very carefully, and that was really the part that drove Weiss to slam her luggage shut, startling Blake into jumping.

There was nothing she hated more than dancing around the point, and she'd been doing it far too often for Blake. But if she was right, then she didn't have to anymore. She didn't have to do anything except be an impeccable team mate. "Just spit it out," she snapped, shooting her a poisonous glare. "For once, Blake, please don't make me go digging for what you really mean. Talking to you is like pulling teeth, and there's not often a lot of reward for the effort." Blake closed her eyes, looking like a saint seeking patience. It irked her terribly, worse than she could ever say. "Listen, if you're here to break up with me, say it." She stressed it. "Say it. Or is that too difficult for our most cryptic, mysterious Belladonna?"

"I'm not trying to be difficult—"

"Well, you're failing. Or not trying hard at all, I don't know which is worse." Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Weiss got up, dragging her luggage to the corner with the other packed bags. "Because lord knows you don't have the same problem with Yang."

"Yang is my partner," she pointed out, eyes tracking Weiss as she stalked the room, still not fully packed. "We're close by necessity."

"And Ruby?"

Blake had nothing to say to that, just narrowed her eyes. And Weiss knew this was it, all of her aggression and frustrated, lonely feelings getting channeled out where they didn't necessarily belong or would be best spent, but there it was. "You let her touch you," Weiss continued, nails digging into the fabric of the shirt she was folding.

Blake hadn't heard her. "...What?"

"You let her  _touch_  you!" Weiss said again, louder, flinging the shirt at Blake, who caught it with a surprised look. "You let her hold you. I have to basically sign a waiver before I'm even allowed to kiss you. And why? Because it might hurt her feelings if you say no?"

She looked like she was about to agree before realizing what it implied— she'd said no to Weiss several times. Quite often. "It's complicated," she said, finally. "I'm not going to apologize for it. Yang doesn't want to have sex with me. It's different."

"How?" Weiss demanded, not letting this go. There was going to be fallout from this, for sure, and she was contributing to it. But at this point she didn't care if she brought down a nuclear winter; Blake might be breaking up with her, but at least they were talking again. Even if it hurt. So, so much.

Starting to raise her voice in response to Weiss's increasingly loud tone, Blake took a step forward, glaring. "It just is!"

She threw her hands up helplessly, not stating how incredibly stupid that answer was, but projecting it loud as day regardless. "So after I come back from the winter break and the dust is all settled, you'll let me hug you no strings attached because we won't be having sex anymore? Is that how this works?"

Blake grit her teeth. "No—"

"Because, you know, that actually makes a bit of sense! You were a hell of a lot more engaging before you saw me naked." She was pressing her luck and she knew it, but she kept on. Something here was ready to break, and it sure as hell wasn't her.

"It's because you— I've been trying to do this because I—"

Her temper flashed; this was it. She felt it like a hound on the scent, knowing the prey was finally within its jaws. "Because what? Because you're tired of me now? Or did you learn all you could from me, and you're ready to move on to another person with a family you hold a vendetta against? Or—"

Blake exploded.

“— _Because it was easier when I didn’t care_!”

Weiss flinched, quickly backtracking. “What,” she said, stiffly folding her arms, spine straight as a rod. “Is that supposed to mean?”

She raked her fingers through her hair, eyes full to the brim with tears that still hadn’t started falling yet. Weiss wondered how long it would take. “I didn’t used to feel this way,” she said, “It never mattered to me what you thought about me, do you understand? Your opinion didn’t matter. You were a  _thing_." It jabbed into her, cold as a steel spike in her chest. "I was toying with you. I didn’t care about you at all, or what you thought about me.” She held her head with both hands now, expression completely broken. “What you might think. I'm so scared of you now, Weiss. You have no idea how much you terrify me.”

As her stomach slowly sank with every biting word, some small, cynical side of her didn’t know why she even bothered feeling betrayed.

Was this really anything new?

People had been using her since as long as she could remember. But what did Blake stand to gain? She never wanted to be given expensive gifts, or shown off. Hell, she wasn't even sure anyone knew about their relationship except Yang, so it couldn't be bragging rights over managing to bed a Schnee. Blake's answer made no sense at all.

Blake was crying openly now, though she made no noise. Her shoulders shook with the force of her tears, face covered in shame, and Weiss was torn between wanting to boot her out and wanting to comfort her, even now. Before she realized it, she’d been reaching out to touch her, hold her, but the way Blake broke free of her own misery to bristle at her made it clear that it wouldn’t be well received. "But if you're so scared," Weiss said, numbly holding herself instead. "Why stick around this long?"

"Because I didn't plan to fall in love with you," Blake said. "And Weiss, I do love you. So much. And that's why I can't stand—" she rubbed at her eyes with her forearm, trying to catch the tears on her sleeve. "I can't stand keeping it secret. I can't let you touch me because— because—"

 _What_?

And in an instant, it hit her.

Decisively closing the space between them, she looked at Blake with brand new eyes, carefully combing over every detail she knew about her. The scars on her back, the not so subtle dips in the conversations they'd had over the year. "What are you scared I'll feel?" she asked, and the way Blake's eyes lit up with fear cemented it.

But Blake didn't back away.

So she touched her.

She ran her thumb down Blake's sides for the first time, mentally counting out each rib as they bumped past. Noting that there was one too many. Stepping closer, so that barely an inch of space rested between them, she slipped her fingers underneath the hem of her shirt, feeling her tremble underneath.

She felt her back, the scars criss crossing and rough. The largest one sat at the base of her spine, a gruesome star just over her buttocks. There was a lump there, invisible to the naked eye, but Blake took her hand and guided her there directly, instructing her to dig in just a bit with her fingertips.

At last, she touched her ears.

Faunus.

"Oh my god, Blake," was all she could manage to whisper out.

She had been so, so stupid.


	3. Chapter 3

At last, she touched her ears.

Faunus.

"Oh my god, Blake," was all she could manage to whisper, not sure how she wound up with both her hands stroking a pair of secondary ears, but finding it hard to stop. Blake took it with patience. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head just enough so that Weiss didn't have to strain to reach. Pulling the velvety skin between scissored fingers, she rubbed them with soft, pinching motions, staring at them openly. "Are— are they real?" she asked, mind still numb.

"Yes," Blake said. She twitched one of them to demonstrate, and it slid out of Weiss' grasp with a single fluid movement.

She started unbuttoning her vest as Weiss sat down on the edge of her bed, a rush of memories furiously swamping out any coherent thought. All the times they had argued about the faunus labor laws, the history of the White Fang, the dubious inception of her family's company. How irrational Blake got, how hot-tempered and quick to bite.

_I don't see why you care_ , she even said to her once, while Blake stood before her with her hands balled into fists and her face red with rage. Her whole body shaking as Weiss turned aside their argument with a dismissive, _It's not like it affects you, anyway._

She buried her face in her hands, trying not to groan.

No wonder Blake wanted to break up with her.

No wonder Weiss' hands frightened her. Schnee hands, touching without permission.

Blake displayed the scars on her back again, turning around not to face her. "I got these," she said, "In the— the mines, the— quarries. Schnee produced and Schnee approved. I was just a kid, so they didn't let me do much." She let out a long breath, a shuddering sigh. "But there were some things that they needed small bodies for, and the labor laws didn't exist then, so I—"

The veins in her forehead throbbed, head pounding with blood as she listened. What could she say? What could she do? It seemed like a sick joke. How often had Blake railed against the inhumane mining practices? How often had Weiss defended them, demanding proof of these alleged abuses?

Well, here was her proof. All along, all those times Blake had hesitantly allowed her to run her unmarred hands along her back.

"I quit, before too long. Or just gave up. I'm not sure if you can quit a place where you technically don't exist. And then I…" Her hands reached behind her back, stroking the largest scar of all. A brutal starburst of discolored skin, Weiss had often wondered what kind of injury or surgery would prompt such a disfiguration. Blake's story was running ragged now, jumping around from homeless shelters to park benches, a disjointed account of a life she barely remembered. She was so young when it all happened that the details got swept away. "The tail was harder to hide. It drew too much attention, so I just…"

She didn't finish, or couldn't finish, voice trailing off helplessly. Rolling her shoulders, she pulled her clothes back on, still not facing Weiss. "The rest I got in training," she said. "When I got tired of it all.

"And I joined the White Fang."

 

* * *

 

The air was too dry for snow, but frost still covered the ground in the mornings and in the gloomy afternoons. It crunched under her heels as she stalked through her allotted hunting grounds, ears pricked for danger. Close behind her she could pick out Yang's heavier tread, loud as hoof-beats in the forest's silence. The stillness in the air, the way the hair on the back of her neck stood up, the deep unsettled feeling in her soul— there were still Grimm here. Their job wasn't finished.

Students who chose to stay behind for the winter break, or didn't have anywhere else to go, got assigned missions like this. The Grimm crawled at Vale's borders day and night, rain or snow, and so a part of their unofficial training was to learn how to come to terms with this as they kept the city safe. She was glad for it. Clearing missions kept her body busy and her mind empty.

Ruby was also too glad to volunteer her team, especially since it meant she would be going partnerless. The night after Weiss left, Ruby stayed up late with Blake, admitting that being able to go on another solo hunt again for the first time in so long excited her. Even though she missed Weiss terribly, solo hunting was her element, and she was eager to return to it.

The areas they cleared out already belonged to an established huntsman or huntresses, but few of them were proud enough to begrudge the student expeditions. If it meant a slight reprieve in their duties, and more dead Grimm, then they were all for it.

Team RWBY— or, well, just RBY ever since Weiss went home— cleared their area in record time. But here and there remained some stragglers, those not grouped together in a pack as the Grimm were so wont to do. That was bad news. Solo Grimm were those who didn't need a pack, generally. Alpha Grimm. Ancient monsters. The kind it took more than two people to kill.

A noise.

She felt it more than heard it, but it still caused her to pause. Stopped in her tracks, she felt Yang freeze behind her as well. They had hoped to run into Ruby at their meetup spot before any more Grimm, but luck, it seemed, didn't favor them today.

Blake's left ear twitched, pointedly.

Given the signal, Yang stepped up to place herself firmly at Blake's side, feet spread hip-width apart as she clapped her hands together, fingers interlacing. Bracing herself, she wound up like a pitcher at a baseball game before lobbing out a funnel of pure, blazing fire. It surged out in the direction Blake had gestured towards, the flame of her semblance clearing out the foliage with explosive force. The Grimm who had been quietly stalking them howled, rolling out from its cover with its fur ablaze. They opened fire on it, tracking its position as it tried to zig zag towards them.

"Break!" Yang shouted, ducking into a roll. Blake dissolved as the beast's tusks brushed against her, using shadows to skid to a halt a few feet away as it continued charging, trying to lash out at anything it could reach in its fevered rage.

"Plan?" Blake asked as they circled it, eyes trained for any movement. The good news was that this was not actually some ancient cosmic horror, but a straggler that somehow escaped their net. The bad news was that it was still a big, mean sonofabitch and wasn't likely to go down easy.

Yang rolled her shoulders, pumping one fist back to chamber and reload. "Shoot it til it's dead!"

Her lips twitched in a smile. "Good plan." Morphing Gambol Shroud into its chain scythe mode, she launched it at the boarbatusk. The beast squealed, legs tangled up in the ribbon. Blake angled it, trying to direct it over to Yang, but then it broke free to charge again. Shouting a warning, she felt her heart stop when it slammed straight into her partner.

And then she saw that it hadn't gored her; Yang had the Grimm by its tusks, arms shaking with exertion as she planted her feet in the ground, wrestling wildly for control. Taking aim, Blake tried to go for a killing shot, but their movements were too erratic. Yang was in her line of fire. Just when she thought she'd have to go in close and get her hands dirty to save Yang, her partner took another step and twisted, tossing the Grimm over her hip. It went crashing into the trees only to come charging back out, screaming in fury at the hail of bullets crashing through its hide.

Gambol Shroud arced out again, winding three times around the boarbatusk's legs. This time Blake wouldn't let it go. With another jerk, she knocked it off it's feet and fired again. Gambol Shroud's head whipped straight down into the Grimm's belly with another blast. Yang moved in for a killing blow, but when she reached the body it was already dust, dissolving in the wind.

Blake tugged Gambol Shroud free and walked over to inspect her kill.

"All right, Blake!" Lifting up a hand, she waited expectantly for Blake to celebrate with a high five. Blake gave her a single, up-and-down glance before turning her back on her and continuing the way they had been travelling before the attack. Whining, Yang trotted after her, being even less careful to make noise now that they had taken care of what was probably the last Grimm in their area. "Aww, Blake!" she said. "That's the third time you left me hanging today! What am I doing wrong, am I being too reckless? Did I miss something?"

Jogging faster now, she turned midstep and started walking backwards in front of Blake, demanding her attention. "Okay, I get it," she said, managing to keep just a few steps ahead of her. Blake walked faster, teeth clenched and eyes straight ahead. Yang easily kept up the proper speed to stay in front of her. "You wanna focus on the mission. Or. Do your feet hurt? You wanna go home? You're hungry. You didn't get any sleep? Or maybe you have to use the bathroom. Are your ears cramping up?  _Blake_!"

Stopping them both, she put her hands on Blake's shoulders and forced her to stop moving. "Come  _on_!" she said, expression pained. "You've been like this ever since Weiss left! What do I have to do to get you to talk to me again?"

"Nothing," Blake said. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Yang let her go only for Blake to move around her and continue to the meetup point. Hands out and pleading, Yang tried to coax her back to no avail. "You won't tell me what happened. If you won't tell me what happened I can't fix it. And if I can't fix it, then we're all gonna be unhappy." She followed after her when it became clear she was getting left behind. "And I can't handle that much tension in one team!"

There wasn't anything she could say, though. If Yang expected a big sob story from her about how her whole life was ruined and she woke up every morning wanting to hang herself by Gambol Shroud's big black ribbon, she had another thing coming. Blake woke up every morning the way she always had, by calculating what needed to be done that day, and how best to get it done.

Except most nights, she didn't really sleep. This wasn't anything new, but in the past she would have gotten dressed and gone to Weiss' room to watch her sleep instead. Now she just stood in the empty room, hands running over the bedposts and the bare mattress. Touching them to make sure they were real. Holding her own head in her hands, trying to sieve through her thoughts for something that made sense. Finding nothing but enjambments, fractured images, a desire to open the window and shriek at the moon.

They found the meetup point and Blake crouched down, running her fingers through her hair in agitation. Yang wasn't going to let it go. "Seriously, Blake," she said, walking in circles around their perimeter, on alert for any more Grimm but also just plain restless. "She's coming back in like two days, or whenever winter break ends. I need to know what the situation is so I can help do damage control."

"I messed up, Yang," she said, sighing into her palms. Her eyes burned, but she refused to break down in the middle of the forest. "What do you want me to say? I messed up really bad and she hates me now. She knows everything."

Yang collapsed next to her on the ground, sitting in a puff of dead leaves and dirt. Leaning close, she rested the side of her head on Blake's shoulder, rubbing it affectionately. "Everything?" she asked, softly.

Blake thought about it. Then she nodded. "Everything."

And she told her.

 

* * *

 

The words hit her hard. "White Fang?" Weiss shouted, all pretext of remaining calm lost. The literal definition of livid, her face burned bright red, hands shaking with rage. "You—" she pointed at her. "You. This whole time you were a faunus— a  _White Fang_  faunus— and it somehow slipped your mind not to tell me?"

"Ex-White Fang. And why would I have told you?" Blake tried to reason with her, hands tight to her chest. How many nightmares had she had about this moment? Sweaty, fear-laced dreams that left her panting for breath upon awakening, checking the mirror for bruise marks around her neck and never finding any. They followed a similar theme: Weiss discovered the truth. Weiss didn't take it well. Weiss would hurt her. Weiss would kill her. "Look at yourself. Look at how you're reacting."

They weren't good dreams, or even very realistic, but they were intense and they were frightening and they wouldn't leave her alone as she watched Weiss, on alert for any sign of violence. She physically knew she could take Weiss in a fight. But the emotional strain might be too much for her to do anything but curl up into a ball and take it, if it came to blows. Old habits died hard, and it wouldn't be the first lashing she had taken from a Schnee.

"Because you lied to me!" she said, tone carrying an unspoken:  _obviously_. About to say something else, she paused, eyes losing their focus. Then she looked over at Blake, eerily calm. "And you knew from the beginning. The very first time we met, you knew exactly who I was. And I didn't have a clue."

She tensed, readying herself in case she needed to bolt. "Weiss…" she started, uncomfortable. "It's not like that. Listen, I—"

"No. Don't you dare." Weiss held up a finger, silencing her. "Don't you dare backtrack now. You admitted it already, I was just another faceless human to you at first.  _You_  listen."

Blake bit her tongue.

"From day one you made me feel like garbage," she said. "Garbage. Like some ignorant, sheltered child. And maybe I am. But you had the nerve— the  _audacity—_  to tell me about how horrible my family is, about the faunus labor laws, about the pain we cause. To stand there and judge me when you  _know_  what the White Fang has done to me. Killed my friends. My family!" Her throat bobbed, voice going higher. "You  _know_  I know what pain is, and you still have the nerve—"

Blake already knew where this was leading, and kicked herself for not saying something sooner. "I never killed anyone," she insisted, ripping past her fear to try and step closer to her, beseeching her to listen. "You have to believe me. I never killed a single person. I quit before things got to that level of violence, I'm not White Fang anymore, that's what I'm trying to say! I'm not a murderer!"

"Neither am I!" she shot back, eyes flashing like cold fire. They were bloodshot, on the verge of crying, but not spilling over just yet. She had better control over her tear ducts than Blake. "But from where I stand, that seems to be how you view me, just because I'm a Schnee! What makes me any different from you? Why are you allowed to walk away and I'm not? Why am I the only one held accountable for things out of my control? Huh?" Her chest twitched towards Blake and Blake flinched, already in a defensive position. She had been watching her body language with the intensity of a fencer, waiting for a sign that she was about to attack, but she never did. "Can you answer me that?  _That's_  why I'm so furious, or do I need to spell it out further for you, you complete idiot?"

She had an answer prepared for that— she always did, when it came to this subject. Arguing with Weiss about her family was like second nature to her now. Besides that, there wasn't a single angle of this conversation she hadn't already agonized over for hours already, hours alone in her bedroom as she wondered if today was going to be the day she would come clean.

"Because I did walk away," she said, coldly. "You haven't. And you still benefit from the subjugation of innocent people. Active participant or not."

 

* * *

 

Yang let out a low whistle. "Damn. How'd she take that bit?"

"Not well," Blake said. Understatement of the year. "She kicked me out of her room. And said to never talk to her again." They both sat with their back against a tree, knees pulled up to their chest. Pulling out her scroll, Blake checked for an update from Ruby. Still no sign. Yang rested against her, solid and warm, and took her hand. She let it happen, glad for the contact. "I honestly don't know what I'm gonna do when she comes back."

"I'm not gonna lie, partner," Yang said, giving her hand another squeeze. Blake responded, lacing their fingers together. "This is ten different layers of what the fuck."

Twitching her head to the side, Blake snorted. No kidding. "I should have known better," she said, lowly. "The White Fang were like my family, and leaving them was torture. What made me think Weiss would ever leave her  _actual_  family? Or take it well when I attacked them?"

"Ummm." Yang twirled a strand of her blonde hair with her free hand, a nervous gesture. "Well," she said. "...Love?"

Blake just looked at her. It made Yang giggle, though she stopped abruptly with a guilty aside glance. "OK but, seriously though," Yang kept on. "You two are a good match. You're both awkward and terrible with people and occasionally rude little brats. And you both wanna be huntresses, 100%. Once Weiss understands you're fully committed to  _that_ , and not the White Clan—"

"White Fang."

"Exactly. Once she knows you're not White Whatsit anymore, she'll forgive you. Right?" Yang looked at her, expectant. Blake didn't have the heart to shatter her idealism. "The real problem here is, yeah, her family." Frowning deeply, Yang let go of Blake to start cracking her knuckles, one after the other. "I dunno what to do about that. They're a huge bag of dicks and they treat her awful, but they pay her tuition, and if she runs off they might take her away from us for good."

That hadn't even crossed her mind. The White Fang might have kept her wrapped around their finger, yeah, but ultimately it was emotional manipulation that kept her with them, not monetary dependence. Blake had always been self sufficient, and being homeless didn't scare her. A few well worded essays had gotten her enough of a scholarship to pave most of her way through Beacon, and loans took care of the rest. A huntress was a rigorous profession, but one that paid well, so even those would be nothing but a memory in around eight years.

"I don't want her to cut ties with her family," Blake said, a guilty pit yawning deep in her chest. "She… values them. I just want. I don't know." Groaning, she flopped over on her side. "This to not be so complicated."

Yang patted her back sympathetically. Then they waited in silence, until Ruby swung by and they could regroup with the rest of their classmates.

 

* * *

 

Two days later, Beacon bustled with activity. Planes and cars and feet and noise. RBY and JNPR reunited after two long weeks of radio silence, exclaiming loudly and shrieking with laughter in their dorm room. Legs swinging from her bunk, Ruby sat next to Jaune, the pair of them threatening to tie up into cuddly knots of affection if someone didn't pry them apart soon. A few liters of soda and four disastrously greasy pizzas were brought in and inhaled at the speed of light. That's when Yang produced two bags full of marshmallows, eyebrows misbehaving.

"Alright kids, gather round." Waving the bags in the air, she demanded their attention. "Who's gonna challenge me for Chubby Bunny championship?"

Zipping down the bed faster than an eyeblink, Ruby launched herself at her sister, wrapping both arms and legs around her as she tackled her to the ground. Buzzing with caffeine and sugar, she grinned and yanked the bags out of her hands, waving them triumphantly as the rose petals settled. "Excuse you," she said, "But I am the Chubby Bunny master of this family and you would do right to remember it!"

"My parents never let me play Chubby Bunny," Jaune remarked sadly, still on Ruby's bunk. "They saw some news reports that kids were choking to death and got all paranoid."

Lying comfortably on the ground as though she did not have 90 pounds of excited, trembling huntress sitting on her belly, Yang grabbed a bag back from Ruby and ripped it open. "Who the hell chokes on marshmallows?" she said around a full mouth.

Jaune shrugged, just as confused as she was. Lost and still trying to keep up, Pyrrha opened the other bag, looking at the marshmallows critically. "What's Chubby Bunny?" she asked. "Do you just… eat candy until you're sick, or something?"

The entire room gasped, except for Blake and Ren. "You've never heard of Chubby Bunny?" Nora demanded, hanging onto Pyrrha's elbow. "Oh, Pyrrha! Say it ain't so, say it ain't so!"

Excited at the chance to play again, Ruby explained the rules. Everyone would put a marshmallow in their mouth and say "Chubby Bunny". Then they would put another one in, without swallowing the first, and say it again. Again and again, until you gave up, swallowed, couldn't say the words, or let your gag reflex betray you into throwing up.

Pyrrha stared at her, appalled.

Completely missing her mood, Ruby grinned and wiggled in place, ready to begin. "Sounds fun, right?"

"...That  _is_  a choking hazard," was all she managed to say.

Laughing under her breath and shaking her head, Blake poured herself another glass of soda. Jaune, Ruby, Yang, Pyrrha, and Nora made a small circle, the bag of marshmallows between them. "Everyone grab one," Ren instructed, the very picture of a stern referee. "Now, when I give the go ahead, you all eat it at the same time. Ready? Go!"

That was when her scroll, set to vibrate, buzzed in her pocket. It lifted her out of her good spirits at once, a stone dropping into the pit of her stomach. Then it vibrated again, a second message incoming. Fumbling around for it, she heard Yang and Ruby's go off as well. Both of them had custom ring tones for the last remaining member of Team RWBY, who had not shown up with the other returning students on the last day of vacation. They, too, received three messages.

Distracted from their game, Blake saw the sisters give each other matching, concerned looks before they spat out their marshmallows into the waste bin Ren provided. Forfeiting the match to look for their scrolls, all three of them read it at more or less the same time.

All the blood drained from her body, leaving her a cold shell.

"We gotta go," Ruby said before anyone else could react, running out the dorm room and dragging Yang along with her. Blake followed close at their heels, tossing the key to their room at Jaune and curtly telling them to lock up whenever they decided to leave.

They gathered outside the dorms, tension palpable. "Ruby— Yang—" she started, eyes wide with concern. Her ears twitched uncontrollably, rippling under the fabric. "Did you also—?"

Yang wordlessly held up her scroll, displaying the text.

_They know about Blake._

_They're not letting me leave._

_help_


	4. Chapter 4

Adam always called them “infiltrations”. Reconnaissance. Sabotage. It wasn’t until she turned on the news one day to see his face plastered across the screen, the notices  _burglary, arson, terrorism_ underneath his name, that she ever considered it anything else. That was her first wakeup call. The first red flag that maybe they weren’t the good guys anymore. That maybe good guys didn’t even exist.

It’d been at least three years since she had done something like this. But it came as natural as breathing. Eyes passed over her form in the shadows. Locks fell apart under her hands. Through it all she felt a strange calm, though what she aimed to steal tonight was more valuable than any schematic, any heirloom, any bank account number or Dust shipping route. She didn’t worry this time about getting caught. Failure wasn’t an option tonight. 

This was what she was made for. It was possibly the only reason the White Fang kept her around, all pledges of fraternity and loyalty just lip service to keep her compliant. Sending out a tendril of her shadow through the cracks in the window, she broke through the security system and eased herself inside.

No moon shone down on her, but starlight was enough for her to scope the room in an instant. Larger than the dorm she shared with Ruby, it was filled with bookshelves and tables, but nothing hung from the walls. No art or posters, no pinboards with polaroids or birthday cards tacked on. Once, she’d visited Ruby and Yang in their childhood home. By comparison, this hardly felt like a room at all. More like a jail cell.

More pristine than any teenager’s room had any right to be, it didn’t feel very lived in, but it smelled like Weiss all the same. Every part of it held her scent, clinging and familiar.

Stalking silently over to Weiss’ bed, she found her safely under the covers, fast asleep.

She knew it would be awkward, at best, to see Weiss again when their last parting had been so tumultuous. But she did not expect to feel torn in half at the sight of her, looking so peaceful and so beautiful, the budding frown lines between her eyebrows all relaxed away in deep slumber. Putting one knee on the mattress, she moved to shake her awake but instead found herself curled up next to her. An inch of space rested between them, and she didn’t get underneath the covers to feel her skin the way she wanted to, but Blake closed her eyes and pretended anyway.

 _Two minutes_ , she told herself.  _Two minutes, and then I’ll go back to reality._

She had missed Weiss terribly, she realized. Not always in tune with her own feelings, she had been pushing it down and pushing it down until now, when it all came roaring out of the broken dam.

That’s when Weiss stirred, turning in her sleep to face her. Startled by the movement, Blake tried to wriggle back, but this time she wasn’t as careful to use her semblance to mask her movements. Waking up, and realizing very fast that she was not alone, Weiss’ eyes snapped open and she tried to sit up, mouth opening for a scream.

Panicked, Blake pounced, pushing her down and clapping a hand over her mouth. “It’s me!” she hissed, knowing how this must look, knowing that her eyes probably gleamed bright yellow in the dark.

Once Weiss saw who it was, she relaxed. Then the familiar pinch between her eyebrows returned as she scowled and slapped Blake’s hand away, muttering, “Oh, damn it, Blake! You nearly scared me to death.”

Blake sat back, guilty as charged. Before this could get any worse, she blurted out, “I’m here to help you escape. Do you have an overnight bag or anything you need to take?”

Hearing her tone of voice, the one they used for missions, Weiss instinctively responded in kind. Giving her a tight nod, she sat up as well and scooted to the edge of the mattress, alert and ready for action. “It’s here in the closet,” she said, “I’ve been packed ever since I sent the message, though I didn’t—”

Halfway to the closet, though, she paused.

Sucking in a deep breath, she held it for a few seconds before slowly letting go.

"…No," she said.

"No?"

"No," she said again, turning to face her. "I can’t leave yet. There’s still something I have to do here. Something important."

Letting it sink in, Blake contemplated her words, trying to search for a reason. None came to mind, except the worst possible scenarios an upset mind could conjure. Numb, she got to her feet. “It’s me,” she said, voice raw. “You’re still angry with me.”

"No, no," she said, still distracted. "Don’t be absurd. I’ve had time to cool down."

Absurd? Was it absurd to assume Weiss hated her? Hope was too dangerous to feel. She wasn’t sure if she could handle it if she allowed herself to feel hope, only for it get trampled on again. Blake shook her head, backing away. “It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend. I’ll even— I’ll even drop out, if that’s what it takes for you to come back. I don’t care.” In case she forgot, Blake decided to remind her. “I’m good at disappearing.”

Eyebrow twitching in annoyance, Weiss reached up, grabbed her by the front of her shirt. Pulled her down.

When their lips parted, Blake was quiet, though just as confused.

As usual, Weiss was all business. “I meant what I said.” Cupping Blake’s face in her hands, her lips twitched in another smile to see Blake lean into the touch. “I want to come home and I do need your help and I’m not mad at you.” Pressing forward, she kissed her again, harder.

Falling into it for just a second, Blake covered the tops of Weiss’ hand with her own, holding it tightly. “…But you were so angry,” she trailed off, still not ready to believe.

"I  _was_ angry,” Weiss said. A shadow crossed her face as her tone dropped lower. “So, so angry. I didn’t know what to think or feel. I almost called the police.”

Every hair on her body stood on end.

Weiss sensed her mood. “But I didn’t. I thought about what you said, about walking away. And I started looking closer at my family’s businesses and I—” This was when her voice faltered, starting to tremble again. Blake squeezed her hand reflexively, wondering if it would be too hypocritical to ask to hold her. “I went to see the quarries myself.”

Muscles that used to be connected to a tail twitching in reflex. The lash marks on her back burned with the pain of a phantom limb. “…Oh, no.”

Weiss laughed bitterly. “Oh, yes. All this time it was mine, and I’d never once laid eyes on it. Or the conditions the workers were kept in.” Her pale blue eyes went somewhere else. Blake didn’t follow; she knew where that path led, and she didn’t want to revisit those quarries ever again if she could help it.

"And all I could think," Weiss kept on, "All I could comprehend, was that you knew from the very beginning who I was. And you still found it in your heart to love me, somehow." She touched her chest, the left side. "You’re a good person, Blake," Weiss said. "Better than I am."

"That’s not true," Blake said instinctively. "You—"

"Oh, please," Weiss groaned, snapping at her just like she used to. "Just take the compliment, Belladonna! I’m trying to be selfless here."

It made her smirk, to see her fussy teammate acting more like her old self. “All right,” Blake said easily. “I’m better than you.”

"Good. Jeez. Was that so hard? Idiot." Letting her hand go, she went into her closet, flicking on the light. Blake followed, silent as her shadow. It was huge, almost as big as her bedroom itself, and had more of Weiss’ personality stuffed inside it. Gowns and dresses and shoes and old toys, a dusty pile of old fencing equipment, and Myrtenaster itself, reverently placed upon its own shelf. "Now that we’ve established that, I need to fill you in on my plan." Finding a backpack stashed away behind a pile of shoeboxes, she pulled out a wad of cash. "Find a hotel tonight, if you don’t want to drive to Beacon and back. You brought a car, right?" she added, off-handedly. "I can’t imagine the three of you on the Bumblebee."

Blake nodded. “But why come back tomorrow? Why can’t we just leave right now?”

On her knees and still elbow deep in her backpack, Weiss tossed her loose hair over her head, grinning wickedly up at Blake. “Because I’m going to rob the old man blind,” she said, pulling out a memory stick.

Staring at her blankly, Blake retreated to her safe neutral zone, the one where she escaped to when she needed to make sure her ears wouldn’t twitch. “What.”

"You heard me." Zipping it up, she found another, smaller suitcase and picked it up, thrusting it into Blake’s arms. "And since you have a car, I can even take my extra suitcase along. Be sure to take this with you when you leave."

The luggage hit her chest with a thump and she caught it on instinct. “ _What_?”

She chided her. “Honestly, dear,” she said, clucking her tongue. “While I could leave with nothing but the clothes on my back, it’d make more sense to take some of my valuables along, don’t you agree? At the very least, I might be able to get some money off the jewelry. Some of it’s worth more than my life. And no, before you get all stoic and sad about it, I mean that literally.” She sniffed, dismissive. “There was a hit put out on me once, and my head was literally worth less than what’s in that bag, so take care of it.”

"I’m not complaining about the extra suitcase," Blake said, rolling her eyes as she set it down. "I mean, go back to that part where you’re going to steal from the Schnees? Isn’t that dangerous?"

"…Blake." It was all Weiss said. It was all she needed to say, considering the irony of the situation. Still, she elaborated. "Tomorrow night is a party, one my father holds every year. He’s made me promise to attend, and have a good time, and tell everyone who asks and everyone who doesn’t ask that I intend to give up huntressing for good and that I’m a polite, reformed young lady of high society again. One who certainly doesn’t sleep around with members of the White Fang."

An alarm bell rang faintly in the back of her mind. “I’m not—”

Pressing a finger against her lips, she silenced her. “I know you’re not. I believe it when you say it. But he doesn’t, and he found out, somehow.” A dark look returned, the same one she wore when she spoke about the quarries. “I’m positive someone has been spying on us at school, some sort of snitch. They found out about us and informed my father. There’s no other explanation.”

She tried to think of who it might be, if she noticed anyone watching her and Weiss too hard. Blake was a cautious individual, with a lot of skeletons in her closet. If she had felt anyone watching her, she would have known it by now. Grimacing, Blake just leaned down, kissing Weiss on her forehead with a fierce sense of protectiveness. “I’ll kill them.”

"Thanks, but not right now. I couldn’t give you the details of my plan because father is watching my every move, tracking my scroll activity. I only just managed to use a proxy to send you those messages when I did, before he remote hacked me and deleted it." She rubbed at her temples. "Thankfully, he didn’t discover what I sent. But he was very… displeased to find out I was trying to contact you at all, to say the least."

"So… what  _is_ the plan, then?”

"I intend to hit my father where it really hurts. With this." She held out the memory stick. "I’ll duck out of the party after showing my face and scraping and bowing at every ass my father wants to impress, then go to his office and steal all his data. Wipe him clean. Steal everything. All his thoughts, every move he plans to make in the next five years, are either on his scroll or on that computer. And I know his password." Her eyes glittered, smile grim. "It’ll be that easy."

"It can’t," Blake protested half through habit and half through genuine distress. "It literally can’t."

"Of course it can. He’s weak here in his home, his castle. This is where he is safest, and this is where he is most lax. Rich, spoiled, powerful people who are secure in their position tend to not clean up their paper trails very well." She bopped her on top of her nose with the tip of the memory stick. "You taught me that. So once I have him by the throat, he’ll either bow to my demands, or I sell it to the highest bidder. Or who knows," she added, rolling her shoulders uncomfortably. "Maybe I’ll give it to you, and you can pass it along to the White Fang. You could find them again if you really wanted to, couldn’t you?"

"…Yes," Blake uncertainly agreed. "That’s true. But what are you going demand from him?"

"Justice," Weiss said. "Accountability. And complete transparency. And if I’m feeling generous that will be it. Unless he fails to compromise. Then I’ll unleash the worst punishment I can imagine. His reputation in tatters. I’ll  _ruin_ him.” Out of breath from the strain of keeping a low noise level, she took a break to huff and puff, red in the face. Though her volume did not raise, the words became steadily more vicious as she kept on. “I’ll burn him to the ground if he doesn’t kneel. Even if it shreds my inheritance in half. I don’t care! I have my own bank account, separate from his, and stocks invested in over seven dozen different companies, all of which are doing well and would only do  _better_ if the Schnee Corporation went down. I don’t need him. I don’t need any of them.”

Biting her lower lip, Blake looked down into Weiss’ eyes, even now wondering if this was all some feverish dream. “But… why?”

A pause. Brought down from the heights of her trembling rage, she looked at Blake as though she only just remembered she had been talking out loud.

"…He hurt you," Weiss said, simply.

This  _was_ real. Weiss was real. And she stood there in her nightgown, hands on her hips and her jaw set in a firm, angry line. Overwhelmed with it all, Blake did the only thing she could do: she grabbed Weiss by her face and pulled her into another kiss, deeper and hungrier than the others. Shocked by her intensity, but not enough to forget their rules, Weiss made a small noise in the back of her throat, wrapping her arms around Blake’s neck. That was how it was between them- arms around the neck, or the shoulders. Never the waist, unless it was slow and deliberate. Hands never lingering too long on her back. And never, almost never, the top of Blake’s head.

So many rules, so many fears. She was dismayed to find that she was still afraid of Weiss’ hands. But at the same time, she was grateful Weiss didn’t assume anything had changed, was still careful when she touched her. She pushed her against the wall of her closet, clothes rattling on their hangers and falling to the ground. Not liking how Weiss had to get on her tiptoes to return the kiss, she bent her knees to reach her better, every nerve ending on fire.

The memory stick clattered to the floor. Weiss didn’t have as many rules about her body, always eager to feel Blake’s touch. “Blake, what—?” she gasped against her mouth, back arched as she pressed her hips forward, her bare skin scorching hot as Blake pinned both her hands above her head, the other one bunched up under the hem of her gown to grope at her chest. Small and pert, sensitive and responsive to her touch. She pinched; Weiss whimpered.

Not enough.

Blake ducked low to kiss down along Weiss’ neck, always careful to never leave a mark. Excitement thrilled down her spine at Weiss’ strained, tortured attempts to keep quiet. It occurred to her that she didn’t know how insulated this closet was, if they were allowed to be noisy in here, if security guards would bust down the door on her midcoitus. But Weiss would have said something by now if that were the case. Panting with need, she thrust her fingers under the waistband of Weiss’ panties, too hungry for this to undress her properly.

Their sex was usually a slow, fumbling thing, always sure to give and receive in equal measures.

Not tonight.

Blake needed her, and didn’t want to go through their usual give and take. Her own aching desires were secondary right now. All she wanted was to make Weiss come. Breathing raggedly against her neck, she found Weiss damp already. It didn’t take much more to get her slick as sin, not even needing to dip her fingers inside to get them coated up to the knuckle. She pressed her whole body against Weiss, pinning her against the wall to keep her upright. Elbow pumping, fierce but not fast. Just steady, relentless, needing this. When Weiss came, she stiffened up, pressing her face against Blake’s shoulder. She snarled between clenched teeth, a choked scream.

Quiet.

Blake listened to her breathe, chest aching with love.

Pulling her fingers free, they brushed against her swollen clit, making Weiss gasp and twitch again. With one arm affectionately around Weiss’ neck, holding her to her chest, she sucked her own fingers clean before using them to stroke the top of her girlfriend’s hair. “You came so fast, baby,” she said, nuzzling her as she tried to catch her breath. They didn’t do pet names very often, but seeing Weiss vulnerable and shaky like this stirred the urge inside her to be delicate.

"I… I couldn’t help it," she said, only sounding vaguely guilty as her sweat-streaked face tilted up to catch Blake’s in a languorous kiss. Hazy pleasure made the usually sharp and quick-tongued Weiss into a sloppy mess, limp and hot in her arms. "That was so good." She tucked her head under Blake’s chin and sighed. "So good."

It  _was_ good. Good to touch her again. Her soft, small body. The surprising denseness of her muscles. Smell her skin, her hair. Taste her sex on her lips.

But not good enough. Letting go of her only so she could yank the nightgown over her head, she let herself be greedy, touching Weiss everywhere Weiss wasn’t allowed to touch back. She sucked and licked, down along her collarbone, her sternum, down to the jutting ridge of her hip bone. Fingers digging into her flesh, knuckles white. “Hey, wait—” Weiss started, a short laugh escaping her, only to be cut short by a gasp.

On her knees, she tenderly placed her hands between Weiss’ thighs, guiding them apart to kiss her sex, nothing but the drenched fabric of her underwear between her lips and Weiss. For her part, Weiss kept her hands clenched and tight at her side, arms trembling with the pressure of keeping still.

Pausing for a second, Blake sat back to undo the binding on her ears, letting them twitch free and flap, exercising some newfound freedom.

"Blake?" Weiss asked, with something close to fear in her throat as Blake took her hands and firmly placed them on the top of her head. "Oh, no— you don’t have to— I know you don’t— I know it’s—"

"The ears are different," Blake reassured her, tickling her twitching stomach with fluttering kisses. "You can touch me there, if you want. I was only scared you would feel them and find out the truth." She bit her, very lightly. Hardly enough to indent the skin, much less break it. "And now I’m not worried about that." Leaning in, she pulled aside the bottom of her underwear, where it curved along the crease between her thigh and vulva.

Closing her eyes, she licked along her outer lips, getting rewarded with a shaking groan and a tighter grip on her head. “…Please touch them,” she said when Weiss just stroked her fingers through her hair, easing through any windswept tangles. “I really liked it, that one time you did it.” Frustrated at her lack of access, she skimmed her fingertips along Weiss’ hips, pulling down her panties to her ankles.

Reminding Weiss of that night probably wasn’t the best idea, though. “I’m sorry things got so awful,” Weiss whispered, tentatively stroking the length of Blake’s velvety soft ears. “I’m sorry.”

In response, Blake purred deep in her chest as she covered Weiss’ sex with her mouth, kissing it openly. Weiss nearly jumped away, startled by the unexpected sensation.

Unable to help herself, Blake smirked up at Weiss.

"Do you just—" She squinted at her, suspicious. "Can you do that on command?"

Wrapping her arms around Weiss’ upper legs, Blake kissed her again. “Not really in the mood for twenty questions, Weiss.” She flicked her ears, flapping them against Weiss’ hands demandingly.

Weiss obliged, grasping them and stroking them as Blake’s tongue probed between her lips, rasping against her clit. She felt Weiss shuffle out of the panties keeping her legs too close together, leaning back against the wall for support as she groaned again, low and tortured sounding.

Not enough.

She needed to be closer. Gripping her underneath one knee, Blake hefted it up over her shoulder with such force that she nearly knocked Weiss off balance. Her thighs trembled around Blake’s face, hands pulling her closer to grind against her mouth and tongue. Hot. Scorching hot, and endlessly wet, a cup that filled further the more one drank from it. Chest rumbling with a happy purr, she squirmed under Weiss’ hands as they pulled on her ears more aggressively, accepting that Blake wasn’t going to get upset with her over it.

Glancing up at her once, Blake got upset to see that she wasn’t the full focus of Weiss’ attention. Cheeks flushed, with sweat plastering her white hair all across her face and neck, she kept her eyes trained on something behind Blake with unexpected intensity. Every so often she would twitch and bite her lower lip, eyes clenching shut from the pressure to keep quiet. But then her gaze would slowly return, her bare chest hitching with another startled gasp.

Blake finally broke her rhythm just to look behind her, just once. A pair of glowing eyes returned her gaze, shining eerily in the semidarkness. Doing a double take, she realized finally what it was: a full length mirror rested against the opposite wall, reflecting their every move.

She almost burst into wild laughter.

Kneeling forward and covering her mouth with one forearm, Blake tried to muffle her giggles. Realizing she’d been caught, Weiss’ blush spread all the way down her neck. Torn between being horrified and trying to play it off as nothing, she just said, “Well you were the one who decided to do it in here, not me!”

Lips pressed together to contain any more loud noises, Blake just trembled at her feet, shaking her head in disbelief. “So,” she said after she felt she could control herself, though her voice still sounded tight. “You like watching me get you off?” She rested one palm against Weiss’ lower belly, thumb stroking her skin.

“ _No_ ,” Weiss lied, breathing ragged, hands trying to guide Blake back to what she had been doing.

"Ah," she said. "Of course not." Gently holding her open with her thumb, she ran her tongue along her a single unbroken motion. Weiss almost lost her balance again, a pathetic cry dying behind her tightly pursed lips.

She came again, letting go of Blake’s head to clamp a hand over her own mouth, head thrown back. The leg over Blake’s shoulder reflexively tensed up, stretching out in a long, straight line. Once Blake let her go, setting her foot down again, she collapsed boneless onto the floor, hands still covering her face.

Still kneeling, Blake eyed her thoughtfully as her chest heaved, licking her lower lip.

Not enough.

Wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand, Blake wrapped around her in a tight embrace, insatiable. Tangling their legs together by the ankles, she dragged her nails down every exposed inch of her body, not ready to let her go yet. Grabbing her by the wrists, she pulled her hands from her face to pepper it with kisses. Then, very gently, she trailed her fingers down the length of her, wondering how best to get her off next. “Blake, oh my  _god_ ,” Weiss said, twisting her thighs tight together once she realized what she was doing. “Now you’re just trying to show off!”

"No I’m not." Blake had seen her at the edge of her limits before, though, and knew she could take a lot more than this. She wanted to see it again. "But you need to tell me when you want me to stop." Winding the length of her long white hair in her fist, Blake pulled her head upright, stroking along her body with the other. "Because I’m not going to stop until you do," she warned, lips brushing against Weiss’ with every word.

It’d been much longer than the two weeks of their breakup since they’d last had sex. Always afraid of revealing too much, and gradually trying to end things, she had weaned herself off of Weiss’s body. After fasting so long, she was starving. She knew Weiss was too.

The release of her fear, of her anger. The knowledge that Weiss loved her enough to change. It was euphoric. It was orgasmic. It was better than sex.

…Well, almost better than sex.

Pulling on the back of her neck, she forced Weiss facedown onto the floor, intending to crawl on top of her and take her from behind.

And that was when she froze, all her arousal seeping away only to be replaced by a cold, furious horror.

She hadn’t seen them before, with Weiss’ back pressed against the wall or covered by the nightgown. But now, straddling her with her knees on either side of her hips, she did. Lash marks. She touched them without thinking, judging them to be a few days old. No longer painful to the touch, they were still hideous and obvious. Ruptured. Purple clouds and red splashes of blood hid just underneath the skin, fading away to seasickness: green, yellow, black.

Weiss stiffened underneath her at the realization that Blake had only just noticed the marks. “…Oh, damn it.” Turning her head to the side, she frowned deeply. Blake followed her gaze again on instinct to see their reflection, Weiss’s face pinched in frustration. “Right,” she said, as though they were discussing lost laundry. “Forgot to mention. Now we match.”

A belt, Blake thought, before quickly rectifying her assessment. No, a cane. Definitely a caning. Her hands shook as she traced each one. They wouldn’t leave a scar- none of them had broken the skin- but they filled her with a fury so blind she thought she might never see the sun again.

Twisting underneath her so they were face to face again, Weiss just met her eyes, understanding without saying a word. “This is how I knew I needed to leave,” she said. “Sorry. I suppose now me running away seems just a tad less selfless, doesn’t it?”

"…Was this the first time?" She touched her face, gently. Noticing the scar over her eye with a fresh perspective. Wanting to kick down the door, find where he slept, and murder him in his sleep.

"No." A small spark of fear entered her eyes, throat bobbing. "But it was… it was definitely the worst." Shifting subtly underneath her, she sat up and rested her hands on Blake’s thighs, trying to get her to focus on something else. "But, we don’t need to talk about that. More importantly, what was that about not stopping until I begged for it?" Gripping Blake by her chin, she twisted her head from side to side, trying hard to remain light and casual. There were very few times when Blake thought Weiss might genuinely be on the verge of tears. This was one of them. "Or are you all talk after all, Belladonna?"

Biting her lower lip, Blake just bent down, holding Weiss as tight as she possibly could. All the carnal urgency had left her, but the need to touch her was still there. They had no trouble staying quiet after that, Blake coaxing one more orgasm from her in between gentle kisses and murmured affirmations. That’s when they stopped, and if Blake felt or saw any tears in the darkness, she didn’t say a word.

Exhausted, sticky, and extremely satisfied with herself, Blake rolled onto her back, palm pressed to her forehead as she looked at the ceiling. “You can pay me back with interest once we get you out of here,” she said, her normal dry humor still alive and kicking. Weiss mumbled back something that sounded like nonsense, jelly limbed and mush brained from too many intense emotions in too short a period of time. “Unless you want to leave now. I won’t blame you.”

Tucking herself against Blake’s side, Weiss shook her head. “No. But shouldn’t you maybe tell Ruby and Yang you haven’t been caught and thrown in jail?”

That didn’t make a lot of sense at first until Blake pulled out her scroll, checking the time with a frown. She had left it on silent, but when she booted it up, roughly fifty messages awaited her from their friends.

Heat crawled up the back of her neck. “Oh, no,” she said, ducking her head in shame. “Oh no.” They thought she was dead, probably. To say she had lost track of the time was an understatement; the sun would be rising soon. How could she face her team mates and tell them she hadn’t rescued Weiss because she was too busy screwing her into the dead hours of the morning?

 _Change of plan,_  she typed out with shaking fingers as Weiss tried not to laugh.  _Update later. All is fine._

 _THANK GOD!_  Yang yelled back at her _. I was gonna burn the place down and look for you two. What’s going on? You went inside and then radio silence!_

 _All’s fine,_  Blake said again, terse and short even through text messages.  _Be patient._

Weiss spoke, taking her scroll from her before she could text any more. “Tonight, meet me here around nine,” she said, tapping and sliding the screen. “Here are the routes and shifts that the guards will be using, and a full schematic of the estate and lands. Memorize it if you can.” She gave it back. “You’re brilliant, dear, but an extra edge never hurts.”

"I appreciate it," Blake said. Pocketing it, she got to her feet and help Weiss up as well, noting with no small amount of pleasure that she was unsteady as a newborn deer. Holding her by her elbows, she kissed her again. "And we’ll be gone, soon. All right? Everything is going to be fine."

"I know."

She did manage to haul that stupid extra suitcase out in the end, scaling the walls with it lashed to her back by Gambol Shroud. When she reached the empty lot where Ruby and Yang had waited all night for her, she tried not to show how guilty she was. “What the hell is that?” Yang demanded, storming up to her. “Our girl better be tucked into that box you got there or I’m gonna blow a fuse!”

Blake shoved it at her, forcing her to catch it. “I said be patient.”

"Patient my ass! Is Weiss coming or not?"

Pausing at the question, Blake looked from Yang to Ruby, who was hovering by anxiously for news. Then a smile dawned across her face, very slow and very intentional.

It took Yang a second to get it.

"Oh,  _Blake_!” she said, pulling at the roots of her hair. “Don’t tell me you just spent the entire night making like bunny rabbits with your girlfriend while we worried ourselves sick! I’m gonna kill you! I’m literally going to murder you, right now!” She roared in frustration, making strangling motions at her partner.

"After we get Weiss," Ruby added, dragging Yang away.

They found a hotel to hole up in for the rest of the day, Yang making angry eyes at Blake and not letting her get into one of the twin beds until she took a shower. (“Ya nasty!”)

Freshly scrubbed, she sat on the edge of one of the mattresses and explained the situation as Ruby paced and Yang nodded along, somewhat mollified after learning Blake did not, in fact, “blow the mission for the hookup.”

"So that’s it, then?" Ruby asked, pausing her restless movements to hop onto the desk, legs swinging. "It sounds a little risky. How does Weiss know she’ll be able to do that stuff without getting caught, or getting you caught, or…? Like there’s a lot of factors here that could go really, really wrong."

Toweling her secondary ears dry, Blake shrugged. “She seems convinced. We’re just gonna have to trust she knows what she’s doing.”

Ruby hesitantly agreed.

After that, Blake crawled under her blankets and slept like the dead.

 

* * *

 

Breaking in the second night was almost easier than the first.

Hovering inside Weiss’ empty room, she waited for the heiress to return. She was out, getting her dress fitted on, her makeup and hair professionally done. Only the best for a Schnee, and tonight was going to be her night, allegedly. Where she would tell everyone who was anyone that the youngest member of the family was not going to be traipsing around the wilderness with a group of riff raff and rejects, swinging her sword like a barbarian. That Weiss was giving up being a huntress and settling down like a good girl.

She hid in the shadows so well Weiss didn’t even noticed Blake in the room upon her return. She bustled around, getting last minute touches finalized and affixing sapphire jewelry to every inch of her body.

Blake watched her, half entranced, half wondering if Weiss would realize she was not alone. She looked beautiful, maybe more beautiful than Blake had ever seen her. Hair tightly twisted across the back of her head to cascade down one shoulder, it left the other half of her neck completely bare.

And her  _dress_.

Dresses like that didn’t exist in the real world. Gossamer and glitter. Clinging and flowing. Dark, dark blue with sheer layers on top. It pulled on a more primal side of her, the one that was still very much a child whose first reaction to the unknown was to touch it and see if it was real.

The words spilled out before she could stop herself. Standing behind her, she rested her hands on Weiss’ hips, the fabric slipping through her curious hands like sapphire dust. “You look like a changeling,” she said into her ear, pressing her lips against the elegant curve of the bare side of her neck.

It earned her an elbow in the gut. Working on reflex, Weiss almost screamed for the guards before she realized it was her girlfriend doubled over beside her, arms clutching her stomach. “Blake!” she hissed, horrified and at the same time full of self righteous fury. “Stop sneaking up on me like that!”

"Ow," was all Blake could say.

Holding her by the arms, Weiss looked her dead on for once. Her heels were a force to be reckoned with, tonight, almost putting them on the same level. “I can’t kiss you or I’ll ruin my makeup,” she said, visibly distressed. “And, oh no, I should have told you to come later, now you’re just going to be waiting in my room until I find a way to leave early and-“

Blake kissed her, very carefully. She still got blue on her face, but it was worth it. “I’ll watch you through the windows,” Blake promised her. “I know the guard stations and I’m good at hiding. I’ll never be further than a shout away if you need me at all tonight.”

Despite herself, Weiss smirked at that. “Oh? And what are you going to do, break through the window? Swing in on Gambol Shroud like Tarzan on his vines, here to whisk me away?”

"Maybe I will."

A knock on the door set them both on high alert. Blake vanished; Weiss opened it. There was a lot of activity after that, and Blake didn’t get a chance to speak to her again for the next four hours. She watched her, just like she promised, stalking from window to window just out of sight. She kept Ruby and Yang updated this time, making sure not to let a repeat of the other night happen.

The party was extravagant, the kind of glittering scene you only read about in the gossip rags or see in the movies. Everyone beautiful or rich or both; everyone pristine, with soft hands and soft steps and harsh laughs. Searching for Weiss in the crowd, she expected her to somehow be different, stand out as a hawk among the doves. It took her a while to note that Weiss did not walk with her usual muscular grace, the kind of gait that only huntresses had. She blended in, almost becoming just another face midst the masses, so different she seemed.

She floated, a social butterfly wisping from flower to flower. Weiss seemed happy. Unnervingly so. Everyone she met, she met with good grace and perfect manners. Grinning easily, kissing old friends on the cheek and greeting new ones with a limp handshake or another brilliant smile and a politely tilted head. She laughed, and danced in her fairy princess dress, and drank champagne from glasses with tender stalks.

It was only when she felt no one was looking that she dipped into a scowl, or sighed in exhaustion, forehead pinched in the way it did when she complained of stress headaches.

‘ _There’s_  the ornery little shit I love,’ Blake thought more than once before the mask returned and Weiss continued to pretend to be the perfect princess they expected her to be.

At the climax of the party, Weiss stood by her father as he gave a speech. He touched the small of her back, looking down at her with cold blue eyes, the exact same shade as hers. He cracked a joke. She laughed, a real laugh. The first all night.

Intimately in tune with Weiss’ true feelings, Blake quietly tucked away the knowledge that the only genuine smile Weiss held that night, she held in that moment when her father regarded her as his prized daughter, his only heir, the one he trusted more than anyone in the world.

And then she left early— “early” being around one in the morning.

Blake followed outside, heart beating faster as she watched Weiss strip away her earrings and bracelets, pausing once to sit down and take off her shoes so she could run all the way to her bedroom. Blake ran as well, excited to meet her once she arrived. Clambering into her window, she just shed her semblance when Weiss threw open the door, mincing in on broken feet. Blake was on her in a second, purring and enveloping her in a loose hug. Exhausted, Weiss sank against her. She rested her face in the hollow of her neck, dropping her shoes at her side.

"Are you OK?" Blake asked, mangling her updo as she undid the pins and ruffled it up. Weiss guided her to press in and massage, letting her feel where they had pressed tightly enough against Weiss’ scalp to leave a mark. She smelled like other people, alcohol and tobacco, sweat and perfume. Blake would have to change that later; for now, she settle for kissing her all over her face. Then, only half teasing, she added, "Fairy Princess? In your little stardust dress."

She barked a bitter laugh. “More like a fallen star, after tonight.”

"Good enough for me. Let’s whisk you away while everyone is distracted, come on." She took her hand to lead her away, but Weiss pulled back firmly, giving her a pointed look. Blake’s ears threatened to flatten against her skull. "Weiss, come  _on_ ,” she said, pleading with her. “You don’t have to do this. You love your dad. You  _do_ ,” she added when Weiss’ expression turned poisonous and ready to bite. “I don’t want you to… break that. Not for me.”

Weiss reversed their grip, holding onto Blake’s hand with both of hers. “I have to do this,” she said. Quiet. Serious. “He won’t change until there’s a repercussion for his actions. I know him. Blake…” she let out a long breath. “When we… broke up, I guess, I was so angry with you I could have broken something. I did break something, after you left. There have been so many times I was just furious, mad enough to not think straight. But not once— not  _once—_ " she said, some of the fury she spoke of returning to her words. "Did I ever think of hurting you. Not once. Not ever. And I’m just a kid. A fully grown man ought to know better. If there was nothing that kept me from hurting you the way I’ve been hurt, there’s no excuse for why he did it to me, or to... to other people." She grit her teeth. "Until I fix this, I’m no better than him. And I don’t want to be like him. Ever again."

Blake leaned in, sniffing at her loudly. Pressing against her cheek and neck, she huffed like a bloodhound, searching for something.

Surprised, Weiss darted back, letting her go. “Excuse you? Is this some faunus thing I’m unaware of?”

"You’re drunk," Blake said.

Weiss stood up a little straighter. “I am not.”

"You are. One angsty confession is quite a rarity; two in as many nights needs some kind of explanation."

Weiss whapped her lightly on her forearm, the kind of play fighting that made more noise than it left any actual sting. “Jerk.”

"You smell like a winery."

Muttering darkly under her breath, Weiss marched past her into her closet, pulling out her hunting outfit and Myrtenaster. Blake was familiar with that strut, it meant a silent treatment was forthcoming.

Setting her jewelry down on her vanity, she gave herself a single, approving once over in the mirror before she started undressing. Struggling with the clasps on her own clothing, Weiss looked at her once or twice before committing to her resolve and staying quiet.

It lasted about two minutes, a new record. “Come over here and unzip me,” she ordered.

Blake obeyed, but not without another quip. Standing behind her again, but closer this time, she put more weight on her touch. Deliberate. Purposeful. “Well,” she said. “Someone’s acting really spoiled after last night.”

She was rewarded by a long blush, brilliant on the pale skin of her neck. Weiss didn’t have a response ready for once, tongue tied and squirming. Blake hoped she remembered every detail of what they had done as she helped her out of her beautiful dress. Touching her skin appreciatively, she tried to focus on how goosebumps arose at the contact rather than the ugly reminder of why she wanted to get Weiss out of here as fast as possible. The bruise marks were all almost gone, but still obvious to her eyes.

Seeing in the mirror where Blake’s focus was, Weiss reached behind her to drag her hand across Blake’s face in a rude attempt to get her attention elsewhere. “Hey, quit staring. I tried to heal it as fast I could, okay? You could see my shoulders in that dress and I didn’t want to cause a scene.”

"I wasn’t," she lied. "Your bra was just giving me trouble." Unhooking it to prove her point, she ducked down to kiss Weiss between her shoulderblades. Weiss shivered, leaning forward instinctively to grip the edge of the vanity. Encouraged, Blake nipped at her shoulder, hungrily wrapping her arms around her waist.

"You don’t need to do that…" Weiss said uncertainly. "I’m going to get changed so we can… I’m not sure I have the stamina for two nights in a row, dear."

"Don’t worry." The fingers of her right hand started stroking the waistband of her panties before carefully creeping underneath. The left went up, palming her small, high breasts, excitement building up in her chest at how she bucked and writhed responsively. "I’m just fooling around."

After discovering her little mirror kink last night, Blake expected Weiss to play along. While the vanity mirror didn’t show as much skin, it was a lot closer. But Weiss kept her gaze down now, pointedly trying to look everywhere but at Blake’s eyes, glowing in the mirror. Smirking, she quit pawing at her breasts to hold her chin, directing her upwards to look at them, at Blake’s hand disappearing beneath the frame, moving with gentle strokes.

Weiss gasped and jerked free, whirling around to hold Blake at a distance. “N-no,” she said. “I don’t like it when— I don’t want you to see me too, I— I don’t like it,” she finished flatly, crossing her arms across her chest, suggesting she wasn’t going to elaborate further.

She seemed to be waiting for a response, though. Blake blinked. “OK.”

"Besides, I don’t want to be indebted to you further." Reaching up, she pulled more of her hair down, finding pins that Blake had somehow missed and shaking it loose. It fell in rings and curls, shortened so that it only just reached past down her shoulders instead of down her back, like it did when straight. "I need to pay you back for last night or I’ll go mad."

"You’re that torn up about it, huh?"

Putting one hand on the center of Blake’s chest, Weiss kept the pressure up until Blake understood. Stepping back, she let Weiss guide her down to the bed until it hit the back of her knees and she was forced to sit. Tilting her head up, Weiss kissed her, filling her senses with the taste of her lipstick and champagne. “I had a nightmare you told Yang all the gritty details of our love life. She accused me of being a pillow princess.” Getting down, on one knee, she yanked off one of Blake’s boots. “And it’s been driving me crazy ever since.” She pulled off the other one.

"You did not," Blake said, grinning.

"I did so. And even if I didn’t, who are you to complain? Pants."

"Bossy, bossy, bossy." Still, she shimmied down her pants and stockings, kicking them off. Weiss proved how much she wanted to pay her back, heady from a mixture of alcohol and possibly anxiety. As she laced their fingers together and bent over double, gasping for breath, Blake hoped that Weiss could hear her, the tiny trills in her chest that she had suppressed every other time they’d made love. She didn’t have to hide anymore, just feel Weiss, allow Weiss to tentatively brush her fingers against the extra ribs on her side and kiss the scars on her back. Her lipstick wore away on Blake’s body, smearing across her thighs and her stomach, until it was all over and they awkwardly giggled over it, trying to wipe off the mess with a pillowcase.

They didn’t have time for another drawn out session of makeup sex, though, and Weiss had to be satisfied with one out of three for now. They got dressed, consulted the schematics Blake had on her scroll, and quietly sneak through the estate. It was not hard at all, with Blake pulling her into the shadows every time she heard a guard patrolling nearby and with the party just now getting into full swing in the ballroom. She could hear echoes of it through the hallways and empty rooms, and tightened her grip on Weiss’ hand every time a loud cheer went up. Each one sounded like an alarm going off, that someone had discovered intruders in her house.

But no.

It looked much like she imagined it would, Schnee’s office. Lots of dark wood, comfortable chairs, expensive rare crystals on display. Also on display were a history of swords, some broken, some lovingly remastered and put on the walls to rest for the remainder of their days on this earth. The love of fencing that he had so obviously inspired in Weiss must have started here, Blake thought as she watched Weiss boot up the computer at his desk, impatiently tapping her foot. When it was booted up she rapidly typed out the password, plugging in the memory stick and starting up the program that would transfer all of his information to her scroll as well as wipe his desktop clean. He almost certainly had a backup of all this information somewhere else, but she did it more for the extra “screw you” it delivered than out of any actual hope to further sabotage him.

"How long will it take?" Blake asked, wondering why she was whispering. She paced the room, the muscles on her back twitching, hands flexing.

"Thirty minutes." She looked at the screen again. "Give or take." Less agitated than Blake, but still a bit paler than usual, Weiss went over to the imposing bookshelf nearest to her, gazing at the titles on it.

"Ah, damn! These are mine," she blurted out, unexpectedly. When Blake gave her a questioning glance, she shook her head, rubbing at her forehead. "I mean, I forgot. These books. I learned about Dust theory right here on my father’s knee, from these books." Looking up at them again, she bit her lower lip. "Well, there goes that part of my inheritance, I guess."

Curious, Blake walked over to her and took a look at some of the titles herself. She recognized a few of them as just limited editions of common practice guides, but others were incredibly rare tomes, expensive and fragile on top of being obscure and hard to find. She understood that Weiss was lamenting more than just the books, though, as she saw her girlfriend open one in particular and flipped to a page with the kind of practice that came from utter familiarity.

There was a photo wedged between the pages. Three people smiled back at her, a toddler squeezed between them and trying hard to be included in the shot. All of them had her white hair, her pale blue eyes. Wordlessly taking out her scroll, Weiss scanned it before putting it back. Her fingers traced the spine, and then she went back to the computer.

Not sure what else to do, Blake looked at her own scroll to keep her fingers busy. Ruby and Yang needed to be updated, and she did so, assuring them that she was not “doing the do instead of doing the mission again.” Once she was done, an idea struck her, inspired by what Weiss had done to the photo. Blake put her scroll in camera mode, taking pictures of each of the shelves. Making sure she got each title clear.

Weiss made a questioning noise from her side of the room.

"We’ll get our own copies," Blake said, holding the scroll steady for another picture. "Once you’re a rich and famous huntress. Fill a whole room with books, if you want." She looked over at her. "Way better than these."

Weiss gave her a smile like a broken lamp, light still shining somehow, through the cracks. Then the computer tinged and they were done. Pulling the memory stick free, Weiss paused for a second before checking the time. “The halls outside should be clear for another fifteen minutes. We should go now if we’re going to go.”

"Got it."

Taking her hand again, they left, running from the room without a single backwards glance as they shut the door behind them.


	5. Epilogue

Two months after she destroyed everything, Weiss Schnee awoke in a cold sweat. It wasn’t a gradual slip into consciousness, but a sharp jab in the center of her being. It came like a lightning bolt.

Fear.

She stared at the ceiling, heart thundering in her ears. Everything she had done, everything she planned to do. All of it racing through her mind. How much she had cried, recently. How weak she must seem to those who knew her, or thought they knew her. She hadn’t cried this much since her mother left.

Rolling over, she reached out instinctively for Blake and found nothing but air. It was an unwelcome development, thrusting her back into the dark ages of their relationship, the cold war that wedged them apart. She thought they were past this, thought she made it clear that Blake couldn’t do this anymore, couldn’t fuck her and then leave her naked and alone in the morning.

It made her doubt everything. Literally everything.

"…Oh, Blake," she said out loud, curling inwards. Not surprised anymore, just exhausted and resigned.

"Yes?" Blake said, gently touching her shoulder and making her shriek.

She sat up straight, pulling the covers up over her chest as Blake took a step back from the bed, hands up in a gesture of peace. The open window framed her naked form, lithe, scarred, stolid. Like a painting of some ancient war god. It was still spring, but cold winter air breathed in, pushing aside the curtains and displaying the small sliver of the waxing moon.

Angry now, Weiss crumpled up a fist and pounding it against the mattress, huffing, “God! Don’t do that! I’m buying you a bell and a collar, I swear to god.” Quiet for a minute as Blake grinned at her, she tried not to let it irk her. “…I thought you were gone.”

Blake’s smile dropped a few molars as she sat down on the edge of the bed. Curling one arm around Weiss, Blake grasped the back of her skull and pulled her to her chest, rumbling faintly. “I was,” she said, “I was sitting outside. Couldn’t sleep.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Naked? In this weather?”

"I doubt anyone else is awake," she said, focusing on the first part.

Another breeze blew in, an angry puff as if to remind them winter was still here, and would be for a while. “Don’t you ever get cold?” Weiss grumbled, pulling more blankets around her.

"You know I do." Letting her go after another squeeze, Blake got up and closed the window. Still, she leaned against the sill, staring out at the crescent moon.

"Well, since we’re both awake, get over here," Weiss said, scooting over to make room. Blake didn’t turn, but her ears did, twitching and betraying her interest. " _Excuse_  you. Don’t try to play aloof kitty with me, missy. I said get your butt over here, right now.”

Blake let go of the windowsill with a huge sigh, pushing herself back and dragging her feet as she returned to Weiss. “Bossy, bossy, bossy,” she moaned, trying not to smile until Weiss grabbed her by the wrist, yoinking her down and pulling the covers over their heads. She went down in a fit of giggles, playfully slapping Weiss’ hands away until Weiss had her pinned, mouth locked onto hers.

Blake flinched, once, when Weiss grabbed at her hips too roughly and for a moment the fear returned, that things hadn’t changed and she was still a Schnee and she always would be, and she could run and run and run and run but— “Jesus, your hands are freezing,” Blake said under her breath, taking both of them in hers and rubbing them, trying to stimulate the blood flow, to share her body heat.

Did Blake feel like this, still? She’d been running from her past for a lot longer than Weiss.

She’d have to ask her one night, when the darkness wasn’t too close to heart. When all her anxiety didn’t feel so dangerously close to tipping over, spilling out.

"Sorry," Weiss whispered back, still shaken enough to sound timid. And she was, for a lot of things she didn’t feel comfortable sharing with Blake yet. She was waiting for the right time to use her father’s information against him, to blackmail him into submission, but it was of course easier said than done. 

After all her talk, she felt she owed it to Blake to get it done  _soon_ , even as Blake let her know that there was no pressure to do it at all. To let sleeping dogs lie.

But Weiss wanted to. She  _needed_  to. She resented that there was still so much to do before she could get to the killing blow, to latch onto her father’s throat and choke the life out of him. She needed to make her alibi airtight for the night of her escape. Needed to make sure that her credit card history showed her checking into a hotel during the time of the robbery. Needed to make sure no one saw that it was Ruby and Yang who had done the transaction. Needed to find a way to get her father alone so she could talk to him face to face.

Any threats made over a scroll or on print could be traced to her. To her friends. To  _Blake_. The punishment for blackmail and extortion were a lot more severe than running away from home. If her actions exposed Blake to even more trouble, after she had worked so hard to leave her past behind…

That would be worse than any punishment she could receive.

Blake purred again, to get her attention, regarding her with half-lidded eyes. Narrow with content. A happy cat.

She must have spaced out. She’d been doing that a lot lately. Pressing her head against the hollow of Blake’s neck, she stayed there until she felt warm again, even in the darkest parts of her soul.


	6. Bonus Round

She woke up near the end of their trip, the sun sinking heavy in the sky. They both hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep last night, and they’d woken up early to drive all day. Belatedly, Weiss wished she had booked a hotel in advance so they could spend the night and return tomorrow morning. She didn't fancy the idea of driving back in the dark.

Stirring in her seat and trying to unglue her eyes, she stretched as much as she could, yawning and looking around to get their bearings. It was a little seaside town half-dead from the wintertime lull. No one visited the beach when the waves were so cold they cut through you like a knife.

The GPS told her they were 35 minutes away from their destination. They passed through the main street and started getting further out to the lonelier areas where the locals made their homes, far from tourist hotspots. Blake’s hand found the back of her neck, the callouses rough and familiar, the gesture protective and safe. “You woke up just in time,” she said, giving her a little squeeze. Weiss took her hand to kiss the back of her knuckles.

“I told you to wake me up so I could drive some of the way,” she muttered.

“You tell me to do a lot of things.” Blake’s voice was dry, but she shot her a genuine smile to let her know she was kidding. Weiss didn’t laugh; she was too nervous to laugh, checking her reflection and appearance in the vanity mirror of the passenger side. “There are a few bed and breakfasts here if you want to do this tomorrow morning.” She paused. “Or not at all.”

“We’re already here,” Weiss said, “We might as well get this over with as soon as possible.”

Opening up the glove compartment, Weiss took out a manila folder, the edges crumpled from misuse and the cramped quarters of their rented car. Over and over and over again she checked and double checked the information within, obsessively hunting for clues, for tips, for something other than just a name and an address and an occupation and a picture of a woman who looked just like her.

They had come to find Weiss’ mother, whom she hadn’t seen since she walked out on them when Weiss was only thirteen.

To be completely honest, there was no reason she decided to do this now. No long withheld desire finally springing free from the confines of her heart, no tragic story or health issues that needed addressing. She had just mentioned to Blake one day—  _My mother? I don’t know where she went. She just left us and never came back_ _-_ \- and several weeks later her wife wordlessly gave her the envelope she now clutched with both hands, fidgeting and twisting the paper until she accidentally tore the edge.

“Do whatever you want with it,” Blake had told her. “No pressure either way.”

The street lights turned on, the road so tiny and so underused that there was no divider between the lanes. More than once they had to carefully twist around another car headed the opposite direction, Blake trying not to drive them over into a ditch filled with bilgewater as the locals honked at these lousy tourist drivers. It was only when they had to do it again, crawling to an almost stop to pass another car, that Weiss looked up from the photo in her hands to see the exact same face through the windshield of the other car.

She froze as her mother drove around them, and then past them, and then left them behind.

_“Stop the car!”_

Her wife slammed on the brakes, snapping them both painfully against their seatbelts. Weiss struggled with the door for a few seconds, forgetting how to use her hands until she tumbled outside, waving the folder high after the retreating car. For a moment she cursed herself in every language she knew, furious and terrified in equal parts. She had come too late, if they had drove sooner, or faster, or if they hadn’t taken so many pit stops, or if she just done a millions things differently she wouldn’t have found herself chasing after her mother’s car like she had done when she was nothing but a stupid child and—

But this time it was different.

The car stopped, engine idling a few dozen yards away. And then the reverse lights flashed on, and it zipped back faster than it should have. Just as she was about to dive out of the way, the car skidded to the side, sloppily halting with one wheel over the side of the road. Fumbling out of the car, the driver stared at her with one hand on top of her sun hat, the other trembling as it pulled out a pair of glasses from where they were folded over the bustline of her shirt. She put them on, blinking at Weiss.

“Weiss?” she said, letting her hat go to close the car door, and another gust of wind snatched it right off the top of her head, letting a wave of grey-silver hair tumble down her back. Her heels clicked on the cement, striding over to her so fast that Weiss realized she didn’t know what she was going to say, or do, or what she expected to happen, or anything at all. She would have been hard pressed to remember her own name if her mother didn’t say it again. “Weiss, honey, is that you?”

“Yeah,” was all Weiss said. And then she cleared her throat, heart racing as she heard the door of their own car slam behind her, Blake approaching. Reaching behind her blindly, she found Blake’s hand already on its way to meet hers and pulled her wife close, gesturing between one and the other. “Yes. I’m— this is my mom, Blake.”

Her mother paused just before them, looking at each of them with an unreadable expression.

“…Did your father send you?” she asked at last.

Bristling uncomfortably, Weiss just shook her head in a tight no. “We came on our own. I wanted to see you.”

Breaking in through the awkward silence, Blake extended her hand. “Hello ma’am,” she said. “I’m Blake. Weiss is my wife.”

“Alba,” her mother said distantly. Then she looked to Weiss. “You’re married?”

“You’re stuck in a ditch,” Weiss said, nodding to her car. “Wanna fix that? Were you headed somewhere?” She clutched harder onto Blake’s hand, hard enough that she trembled from exertion. “Do you want us to come back another time?”

_Do you want me here at all?_

Alba ran one hand through her hair. It was veiny and thin, like Weiss’ hands, so thin light seemed to shine through it. Dark, deep lines etched across her face, and her hair was more silver than white. Life didn't look like it had been very kind to her. “I was just returning some books to the library,” she said. “Do you— you can follow me back home. Would you like to stay for dinner? I could cook something.” Her throat bobbed. “Oh, this is strange. Weiss, is that really you? You’re such a big girl now.”

Now that Weiss thought about it, it was a surprise Alba recognized her at all. Between the suit, the years between their last meeting, and the fact that Weiss had long since adopted a boyishly short pixie cut as her signature ‘look’, there was hardly anything left of the little girl she’d been. “I’m a huntress,” was all she could say.

The crow’s feet at the corner of her eyes deepened in a huge, glowing smile. “You made it?” she said, taking another cautious step forward. “You made it to Beacon?”

Pride bloomed in her heart as she nodded. “Yes! That’s where I met Blake. That’s when I—” she faltered. “That’s when I cut ties with father.”

Alba's hands idly patted the back pockets of her jeans, pulling out a carton of cigarettes and lighting one up. The movement was smooth and second nature, the kind that forms after years of a long nurtured habit. “I take it that’s not a coincidence,” she said, smiling tightly. “Far be it from me to suggest something unkind about your father, but—”

“Oh, by all means,” Blake said, her unbound ears twitching freely on the top of her head. “Feel free to get as unkind as you like.”

“In that case, that must have been a real kick in the balls for that racist dumbfuck,” Alba said. Weiss laughed so suddenly she spat, a cackle tearing free from lips she hadn’t realized were pinched tight with nerves. Alba grinned uncertainly at them, but her posture was a lot more relaxed now. “Why don’t you girls follow me home? We have a lot to catch up on.”

 

* * *

 

Alba got married when she was sixteen years old and had Weiss two years after that, she told Weiss over coffee. They both took it black, but Weiss had developed the habit of adding just a spoonful of sugar after too many years working closely with Ruby. Weiss quietly did the math; at the same age Weiss had become a licensed huntress, Alba had a toddler on her hip.

Her parents had been in love at one point, purportedly. Alba wasn’t anywhere close to being the kind of wife the Schnees expected or desired, the class gap wide enough to eventually cause the schism between them that led to their divorce. But once she left, with promises that Weiss would be shared with equal custody, the Schnee family came down on her with all the fury and mindless hatred of an avalanche. The most powerful and skilled lawyers money could buy labeled her unfit for motherhood, or custody, or any kind of interaction with her daughter at all, and private thugs made it clear what would happen if she brought herself anywhere near the Schnee heiress.

Weiss listened to it all with a growing grim certainty that it was all 100% true. Even if Alba wanted to lie, or if she had made up parts of the story to be more charitable to her, Weiss would have believed it all in a heartbeat. It sounded just close enough to something her family would do that none of it rang as an exaggeration at all.

“So that’s that,” Alba said, crushing her third cigarette out on a crystal ash tray. “I fought for you, Weiss. I really did. I went bankrupt just keeping the lawyers paid. But—”

“It’s okay,” Weiss said shortly, still holding onto Blake’s hand under the table with an iron grip. “I don’t… it’s okay. It’s over. It’s been over for a while.”

She wondered if Alba was a chain smoker all the time, or if she was just acting out of the same kind of nerves that brought Weiss to hold onto Blake’s hand with a death grip. Either way, she was on cigarette number four, looking at the two of them with her blue eyes narrowed in thought. “When was the last time you spoke to your father?” she wanted to know.

“Just before we got married,” Blake answered.

“And that was…?”

The huntresses looked at each other, thinking the same thing. There was a lot there that they couldn’t share with Alba, not yet. Maybe not ever. “Six years?” Weiss ventured at last. “Almost six years ago. Not too long after graduation.”

Alba smiled wryly. “Couldn’t handle living in sin, eh? Not that I’m really one to talk.”

Her pale skin turned bright red. “Mother!”

“What? I’m glad Blake made an honest woman out of you!”

Not saying anything, Blake kept one hand tight over her mouth as though she were just listening with rapt attention. But her shoulders shook with barely contained laughter. “So what else, what else?” Alba asked eagerly, sitting back in her chair and throwing one leg over the other. “Tell me more! How’d you meet? Any kids? A huntress! My daughter, a real huntress. What’s the pay like for a job like that?”

As they continued to talk, Weiss felt the memory of their life together slide into place. She remembered how bold her mother had been, how brash and loud. How much she admired her will, how she channeled her when she went to fencing lessons. And she remembered having it all stripped away, the lessons doubling up in her mother’s absence, the etiquette of a proper young lady drummed and drilled into her until she felt nothing else, remembered nothing else. And one last thing—

“One kid,” Blake said, pulling out her scroll and picking out a picture to give to Alba. “Her name is Eve. We left her at home with a friend while we came to see you.”

“Eve,” Alba said, sounding distant as she looked at her granddaughter. White hair, and blue eyes, and two sets of ears. “So she’s a faunus too, huh? But she looks so much like Weiss…”

“I carried her, but she’s both of ours,” Weiss said.

Then she jumped as Alba slapped a palm on the table, glaring at her daughter angrily. “Weiss!” Alba said, lips pressed thin. “Oh Weiss, a _baby_? How could you! Have a little sense!”

Rudely rocketed out of the sense of safety she had been building, a sharp, cold anger flared in her at the sudden change in attitude. Was a faunus daughter-in-law only okay as long as the children weren’t mutts? Was she trying to say that Weiss, a grown woman with a job and a wife, was not a suitable mother when Alba had been barely more than a child herself when she had Weiss? A whole row of insults and stinging reprimands and guilty, tear-stained shouts almost broke through the dam until she saw Alba was grinning at her.

“What,” Weiss said stiffly, “Is wrong with Eve, exactly?”

“Eve? Nothing’s wrong with Eve, she looks like a little angel.” Alba gave the scroll back to Blake. “But you! Weiss, you’re a stick! You’ve got my build, and I nearly bled to death giving birth to you. Why didn’t Blake do it? Now she’s got some hips that make me jealous. Those are some child bearing hips, I gotta say.”

“ _Mother_ ,” Weiss said again, and this time Blake couldn’t pretend she wasn’t laughing. “Please don’t talk about my wife’s hips?”

“Well, she’s not wrong,” Blake said.

“Don’t encourage her.”

“I’m serious!” Alba kept on, waving her lit cigarette dangerously about. “Blake, darling, please! Tell me you’ll be a good wife and carry the next one!”

 _Next one?_ Weiss was almost tempted to tell her to slow down. Sitting back in her own chair, Blake just rolled her neck to get the kinks out of it. The tattoo on the side of her neck rippled, the dark flames of her sigil standing out against taut muscle. Weiss knew it as a sign Blake was relaxed, after seeing it a million times before, and it put Weiss at ease to see it.

“Alba, there’s only so much I can do,” Blake said, sounding demure. “You don’t know what it’s like arguing with her when you’re married to her.”

“You poor soul,” Alba tutted. “Bless you. Bless your heart.”

Great. It was her destiny, it seemed, to be surrounded by women who enjoyed teasing her. Trying and failing not to smile around her cup of coffee, she listened to them talk, feeling content to simply be in their presence. At one point, Alba reached across the table to take her free hand, squeezing it tightly.

It was so warm.


End file.
